Journey to the Center of the Doctor
by Flying With The Wolves
Summary: SuperWhoLock sequel to Demon Games. When the Winchesters discover a seemingly ordinary case of a haunting they find graffiti that tells them this is anything but ordinary. With some help from Castiel, they find themselves a new friend who leads them on a new adventure full of geniuses, flying boxes and traveling to other worlds. The thing is, one remembers meeting them all before.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: Well, guys, here we are again. Due to the enormous amount of support you guys have given me I now give you the first chapter of your sequel: Journey to the Center of the Doctor.**

**We do have to take care of some niceties though so bare with me:**

**All previous rules still stand: Rory never existed, I don't own any of the characters or the shows, etc. **

**Sherlock: Post Hounds of Baskerville**

**Doctor Who: Post Journey to the Center of the TARDIS**

**Supernatural: Post Freaks and Geeks**

**Don't forget to review my lovelies! First chapter isn't the best I've written but it get's better, I promise. Thanks again for your love and support!**

* * *

"Dean, can you get that?" Sam shouted out to his brother. Sam began swiping the brush over his teeth again but the phone in the opposite room continued to ring. Sam spit into the sink, rolling his eyes, before leaving the bathroom. Dean was spread all over his bed and Sam made sure to push him off of it before he snatched up the cell phone.

"Hello?" He ignored Dean's protests and instead focused on the odd noises on the other end of the line. Dean stumbled wearily into the bathroom, beginning to strip in front of the door in preparation for his shower.

"Oh, hello dear!" An unfamiliar voice came over the phone and Sam's face scrunched up in confusion. "Need a little help so pack your bags we're coming to get you." A whirring noise could be heard in the background of the call. As Sam listened, he could hear another voice in the background, this one feminine. "No, Clara! I said the red switch!" There was more background noise accompanied by muffled shouting.

"Dude, who is that?" Dean wandered in curiously, dressed only in boxers with a towel in hand. Sam shrugged as he listened with interest to the conversation the mysterious others were having.

"Alright, now who am I talking to? I called Sam's phone and I'm assuming it's him because Dean can never pick up a phone." The man gibbered into the phone, and Sam stood in surprise. He had assumed this was a wrong number so how did this man know their names?

"This is Sam but who is this?" He exchanged looks with his brother who moved forward to listen to the conversation.

"Oh good! Hello Sam!"

"Uh, hi?" Sam glanced at Dean who looked as puzzled as he felt.

"Oi, Clara! Give that back! I need to get a landing point!" The two boys could hear the phone changing hands and suddenly a feminine voice began to drift over the line.

"Sammy, boy. Remember me?"

"Uhhhh..." Sam had no idea what to say to that but it didn't matter because the girl kept on talking.

"Well, the Doctor says we're going back to when they wore chain mail so I was wondering if you could strap some of that on and be my knight in shining armor?" Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, a smirk starting to cover his entire face. Sam tried to convey the words 'shut up' to his brother through a facial expression but Dean poked his tongue through his teeth in his characteristic 'pervy smile'.

"Uh, the thing is I don't actually know who's calling." Sam admitted to the girl.

"Doctor! Sam says he doesn't know who I am!" The girl shouted in the background. There was more passing of the phone until the man's voice rang out in Sam's ear again.

"Hello, me again. Could you read me the date?" The boys exchanged looks before Dean flipped open his own cell. He held it up so his brother could see, both wondering what this phone call was all about. Sam read off the date to the man on the other end who immediately said. "Oops. To early. Dean's princess isn't with you, is she?"

Dean yanked the phone out of his brother's hand and held it to his ear. "My what?" He demanded.

"Oh, Dean. Good to hear from you but I've got to go. We're drifting towards the 1820's. Tell Sam that Clara intends to collect on that drink. Oh, and for goodness sake, don't-" The phone call cut out with a buzz and Dean lowered the phone slowly, staring at it.

"What was that about?" Sam asked him.

Deans shrugged. "No idea." He tossed his brother the phone and began to cross the room back to the bathroom.

"Uh, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You left the curtains open again." Dean's gaze flickered over to the clear window. Standing outside of it was a girl with disheveled hair and a mouth hanging open, staring at the mostly naked man on the other side. Dean winked at her and she gave a start before running in another direction. Dean giggled even as he caught sight of his brother's face.

"What?" He threw the rest of his clothes onto the bathroom floor before turning the handle on the shower. Sam gave brief snort before beginning to cough. Knowing what was coming, he grabbed a tissue and held it to his face. He looked down into it to see flecks of blood spattering the white surface. Before Dean could notice, he shoved it back into his pocket.

What Dean didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

* * *

"Hey." Dean caught the burger Sam threw him as he walked into the motel room. "Find anything?"

"Yeah. Here are the pictures." As he plopped down in the seat across from his brother he slid his phone across the table. Dean scooped it up and began to scroll through the pictures. "Local folk say that the building is haunted and everyone's been too scared of it to go near it." Sam opened up his salad and began picking at it with a fork.

"Hold on, what's this?" Dean showed him one of the pictures.

"It's a telephone box. They used it back in the 1900's in Britain." Sam poked a bit of salad into his mouth, unsurprised to find that the lettuce tasted a little old.

"But why's it painted on a house?" Dean resumed scrolling as Sam shrugged. Just as Dean lifted the burger to his mouth, he froze. Sam looked from the burger to him in confusion before Dean turned the phone so that he could see. In the picture were tall letters that read out 'ESCAPED FROM THE ANGELS. COME AND GET ME. 22/7/1940'.

"Sound like our kind of thing to you?" Dean wondered

"Yeah, but we'll need to call Cas in on this one." Dean put his burger down before tiredly rubbing his hands over his face. "Dean, we've got to find out who this person is. There's no record of it anywhere that I can find but if the angels were after them that long ago, we could be onto something here."

"Fine. Do what you want. Call Cas. He won't answer. He's taken the tablet and he's gone. He's not coming back for us or the hunt or-"

"Hello Dean." A voice greeted. Dean jumped to his feet so quickly that he sent his chair flying.

"Cas? What the hell? Where have you been?" He demanded, dropping his burger back onto the table.

"That doesn't matter. I'm here to take you back to where you need to go." There was something different about Cas, Sam noticed. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but something was wrong.

"Why are you helping us all of a sudden? Last time we saw you, you took the tablet and made a break for it. How do we know this isn't some sort of trick?" Dean crossed his arms and glared at the angel whom he had trusted until so recently.

"Dean, you have to trust me." Castiel's fingers went out, touching two to each forehead of the boys. There was a rustle of wings in their mind as they suddenly found themselves blinking out in the sunlight. They were outside of the building the two hunters had been keen to investigate. This time, however, the graffiti was fresh, no more than a couple of hours old.

"Whoever did this has got to be inside." Dean observed, running a finger along the edge of the 'L' in 'ANGELS'. Sam moved past his brother and jiggled the knob of the door. Dean quickly took a defensive position behind his brother as the door swung open. The creaking echoed through the house, still old despite the shift in time periods.

"Thought you'd never get here." A female voice rang through the house. "Took your time, didn't you, raggedy man?" The back of a ginger head appeared in the doorway, dragging a suitcase. "I thought for a while that you weren't-" She froze as she turned and saw the three strange men. "-coming." She finished slowly. She lowered the suitcase slowly, watching them sharply.

"You put up the graffiti, right?" Sam asked her, seeing how frightened she was and trying to ask gently. "Why are angels after you?"

The girl's eyes darted between them, clearly confused by what she was seeing. When she came to Dean she paused. Her eyes darted all over his body, her expression strained, as though trying to remember him from somewhere. Dean could only stare back, confused. Why was this girl making sad eyes at him? He thought he should have remembered such a striking figure...

"Who are you?" She asked cautiously, moving so that her back was to the wall. She kept all three men in her sight, counting the exits out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean." Sam gestured towards Dean who was still watching her, noting her cornered animal behavior. "This is Castiel." Sam continued. "He's an angel but it's okay. He's nice."

"He's nice?" Dean spoke up for the first time, amused by his brother's choice of words. Sam shrugged as though to say he couldn't think of anything else.

"An angel, you mean like a weeping angel?" The woman squinted at Cas who seemed to be growing impatient with the entire conversation.

"We don't have time for this." The angel interrupted, moving between the boys and the woman. He extended two fingers towards her forehead and she instinctively backed away.

"You stay the hell away from me." She warned. Dean grabbed Cas's arm to restrain him.

"Dude, we can't just take her to the future with us. Isn't there some rule about time and events being unable to be changed?" Dean remembered, unsure what Cas was thinking by bringing this woman fifty years or so into the future.

"Dean, she's from your time. Well, technically she left a year ago but she belongs there. We don't have time to argue. I must return." Cas insisted, losing patience with humans and their slow up taking.

"Alright, you say you're from our time, prove it." Dean opened his arms wide, as though offering the woman a chance to analyze him.

The woman bit her lip as she thought. She certainly didn't trust these men but they said they were from her time. The clothing style certainly supported that theory as did the mobile hanging out of the tallest man's pocket...

"That's a mobile phone. In the future everyone has one. It's not magic or a walkie-talkie. There are satellites in orbit that put out signals to towers which then go to our mobiles. See? Future girl." She winked at Sam who glanced down to see his phone corner jutting out from his pocket. He looked up at her and grinned. Dean, feeling slightly uncomfortable, coughed to let them know there were still two other people in the room.

"That clears that up. Feel free to take us home, Cas." Dean invited. Cas extended his fingers to the forehead of the ginger and she vanished. Withing moments, the angel had returned the two boys to their own time and their own crappy motel room. The woman was looking around the room in surprise. She jumped when she saw that the men had joined her but said nothing about it.

"So, you're an angel, yeah?" She marched straight up to Cas and poked him in the stomach. "If you're not a weeping angel, what are you then? Because weeping angels have the ability to transport people back in time but not forwards. Some kind of alien, are you? What planet are you from?" The woman stopped circling him and planted herself in front of him, arms crossed.

"I must return. You will be safe in the hands of the Winchesters." Without another word, the angel disappeared, leaving the woman behind, blinking at where he had vanished.

"Alright, any where we can drop you?" Dean asked, grabbing his bag. "I mean, anywhere besides England?" He threw his bag over his shoulder with a hand before looking at her. Damn, she was striking. The way the daylight played off of her hair made her look like some sort of fire princess. Huh. Princess.

"Scotland. Actually." Sam said quietly, almost as a side comment.

"What?" Dean turned, acting slightly indignant that his brother had to interrupt the moment with some snide comment.

"Her accent is Scottish, actually. Not English." Sam mumbled quietly, looking down at his bag, feeling awkward.

"No, he's right. I grew up in England. Little town called Leadworth." Her eyes grew momentarily foggy with memories before she shook them out of her head. "Amelia Pond." She stuck out a polished hand which Dean shook slowly.

"Nice name." Dean grinned over at his brother who made a face.

"What?" Amy asked, picking up on some missing subtext.

"Nothing." Dean dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Anyways, anywhere we can- Woah. Something wrong?"

"No. Why? Something wrong with you?" She leaned back against his bed, arms folded as she looked up into his chiseled face. It was his eyes that really caught her attention. They were the greenest green she had ever seen. They drew her in and held her there.

"I was just asking since you're crying." Dean noted the crystal gems rolling down her cheeks. He pointed a finger at them and her hand flew up to feel them.

"You're crying too." She told him, looking up at the tear caught in his stubble. His hand came up much more slowly, pulling away his calloused fingers and noting the wetness. "What's wrong? Disappointed you didn't get to see more of 1940? I've been there long enough, trust me. It's no picnic." She rolled her eyes at the memories.

"Huh." He looked down at his fingers. Light glittered off the wet surface and he couldn't think of why he would be crying. But he felt almost happy. Happy and guilty. What the hell was wrong with him? Why were the two of them crying? They had only just met, right? Why would they simultaneously start crying if they had no connection?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: I'm glad you guys are excited for a new story! I hope everyone in school has been doing better than I have. Pre-calculus is killing me. Anyways, enjoy the chapter and please review!**

* * *

"So, where are we off to boys?" Amy tossed her suitcase into the trunk alongside the boys' collections of dirty laundry. She scrunched her nose up as she saw this. She reached in and pulled out Dean's dirty undershirt. "Really? Haven't you ever heard of a washing machine? I'm never taking advantage of that thing again, trust me." She slammed down the trunk of the car before seeing the look the brothers were exchanging. "What?"

"Are you coming with us?" Sam wondered, observing how she seemed to be content with going wherever the brothers were headed.

"You know, we're not exactly the safest people to be around." Dean warned her, crossing his arms. There was still something about her. He couldn't put his finger on it but she gave him a guilty hole in his chest.

"That's fine. I can handle danger." She winked at them and Dean felt himself growing angry.

"Listen, you're not coming with us. We'll drop you off at the nearest airport and you can fly back home, far away from us." Dean insisted, not wanting to drag her into this crap they had going on. He had enough to deal with while Sam was laden down with this trial crap. He didn't need more weight.

Dean's phone began to vibrate and 'Smoke on the Water' echoed in the parking lot. "We're not done with this conversation." He warned Amy, pointing a finger at her. "Hey, Garth." He put the phone up to his ear and Sam moved off with the ginger.

"Sorry about Dean. He's got a lot on his plate. Did you want to be dropped at an airport or did you want to tag along with us somewhere else?" Sam shoved his hands deep into his pockets, feeling a little uncomfortable talking to her. Dean was usually one who handled the whole 'attractive girl' thing.

"Yeah, I've noticed." Amy snorted. "Does he always cry when he meets new people?"

"Only when they thinks they're hot." Sam muttered. Then he realized what he was saying and a rosy blush covered his cheeks. "Oh! Oh no! I meant..." He stuttered and cast glances around, looking for words. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling incredibly awkward.

Amy laughed, a musical sound that calmed Sam's fears slightly. "It's all right, monster man. I can handle your brother." She patted his chest, the highest part of him she could reach without stretching up awkwardly. He blushed again at her touch but she didn't see. She was glancing back over her shoulder at his brother.

Dean approached them, tucking his phone back into his pocket. "That was Garth. We got a case over in Crescent Mills. So, I was thinking airport then get a head start on getting down there." He noted the looks on the faces of the two standing before him. "What?"

"Dean, I think she should come with us." Standing up to his brother wasn't always the easiest thing, but there were times when Sam knew it had to be done. Dean's face immediately shifted into protest mode but Sam cut him off before he could get started. "Dean, we just took her seventy years into the future. Where is she going to go?"

"I can handle myself, Sammy boy." She pushed him aside with a hand, excusing him from the conversation that was now down to her and Dean. "I need to find someone, a man called the Doctor. You're going to take me with you because you attract trouble. Where ever there's trouble, there's the Doctor. I'm coming with you and that's final." She crossed her arms defiantly and glared up at the man. Dean resisted the urge to swallow. Damn, she was attractive.

"Fine. But when you get caught up in our troubles, just remember we never said we could save you. We've warned you and that's as far as our responsibility goes. I don't need you adding on to all this other weight that I have. So you take care of yourself or you're out. You pull your own weight." Dean turned his back on her coldly, marching towards his car.

There was that guilt again. It wrapped itself around his organs and squeezed, making him want to vomit. But he didn't turn around. He didn't apologize. He wanted to. He wanted to so very much. But he couldn't. He could barely keep up with Sam and all this trials crap. He had to put Sam's needs first. Sam needed his brother focused and Dean had never met anyone more distracting than Amy.

Amy stared at the hard shoulders of the Winchester as he walked away from her back towards the Impala. She glared at his back, not understanding why he was being like this. She could handle herself and she didn't need his threats. There was something off about these brothers. For one there was the fact that they had some kind of reverse weeping angel on speed dial. Then the crappy motel, warnings about trouble, and the fact that this Sam guy looked like he was going to pass out or puke or something.

Sam coughed awkwardly. He didn't really know what to say to either of them he sort of ambled past Amy towards the shot gun seat of the car. He pretended not to notice the look of questioning Amy gave him as he pulled open the door. The car groaned slightly under Sam's weight as he shifted his body into the seat. Dean was already in the driver's seat, knuckles white with the emotions coursing through him as he gripped the steering wheel.

The door creaked open as Amy got into the seat behind Dean. The Impala came to life with a roar which settled down into a gentle purr. Amy traced her fingers over the seat. Just the slightest vibration could be felt as she leaned back on the seat. She closed her eyes as the rumble of the car filled her ears. She could get used to this. It reminded her of the TARDIS and all its strange noises.

"Don't get too comfy. We're gonna make some stops first." Dean warned her, catching sight of her in the mirror as he put the car in reverse.

"Stops?" She wondered. "Where?"

* * *

"You've got to be joking." Amy whined. Dean threw another pair of pants into the washer. Sam grinned at her over his brother's back. Amy rested her chin on her knees, sitting on top of the island in the middle of the room. She hadn't wanted to be dragged to a laundromat.

"You're the one that wanted to come with us." Dean told her, slamming the washing machine shut. He began inserting quarters and Amy sighed dramatically, raising her face to the heavens.

"This wasn't what I had in mind for my first day back."

"We don't all get what we want, princess." Dean told her. He flopped into a chair and pulled out a magazine from his bag. Amy started when she saw the cover. Busty Asian Beauties? What sort of company had she found herself with this time?

"So what did you want?" A quiet voice asked. Amy tore her horrified gaze from Dean who was smiling with his tongue stuck between his teeth. Sam had pulled himself up onto the counter and was looking at her interestedly. She mentally shook free the image of Dean and his magazine.

"Sorry, what?" Sam's grin twitched across his face in a self defense mechanism. He felt a little disappointed she hadn't been listening but he shrugged off the feeling.

"How did you want to spend your first day back in our time?" He wondered, noting how she didn't seem very frightened or disoriented by suddenly jumping seventy years into the future.

"Well, I had expected the Doctor to come and get me, not two boys with some bizarre angel fellow." She told him, twisting her hands around in her lap.

"Who's the Doctor?" Amy froze, thinking she had said too much.

"Just a friend." She dismissed, trying to shrug off her sudden reluctance to talk about the subject.

"Who was going to rescue you from 1940? Some friend." Sam snorted, avoiding eye contact with the woman. Amy was watching him, doing what the Doctor would do. Trying to figure this man out. He seemed sad although he was determined to seem okay for some reason. Maybe it was his brother who kept glancing up at him every few minutes.

"Yeah. He used to be my imaginary friend. Then he came back for me." Sam glanced over at Amy, wondering what she could mean. She was watching him, her knees drawn up to her chin while his hung over the edge of the island. He felt little butterflies in his stomach as she looked him over.

"What does that mean?" He asked her, trying to focus less on the slight creases at the edges of her thinking eyes and more on the words coming out of her mouth.

"Nothing, it was stupid." Amy excused, looking away from the man. She felt a bit silly talking about her Raggedy Doctor to this grown man. She took a moment to collect herself before looking back at him and asking, "What about you? How did you meet your angel friend?"

Sam found his gaze slide away from her back down to his boots. How did one even begin this story? Should he even tell it? He glanced over at Dean out of habit. His brother was watching him, waiting for him to tell her. Sam hesitantly took this as a go for it.

"Would you believe me if I told you we were monster hunters?" He asked, feeling the slightest bit awkward at this statement. Of course she wouldn't believe him. He was just being stupid. No one sane would even stay in the same room after he said that.

"What kind of monsters?" Amy wondered. Perhaps she had stumbled on a band of humans that hunted aliens. Well, it would certainly be easier to find the Doctor if they started hunting him although she would have to stop them from putting a bullet in his brain. Americans...

"Ghosts, demons, vampires."

"Angels?" Sam smiled at how quick she caught on.

"Yeah, although those are a lot harder to kill."Amy pressed her fingers into her temples, trying to absorb what he was saying. Aliens were one thing but monsters?

"So, your friend, Castiel, he's a proper angel? And not like an alien or anything but an actual proper angel?" Sam cocked his head and a confused smile played across his lips.

"Alien? What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Amy shook her head. They didn't know about aliens. Maybe it was best to keep it that way. She didn't want the to go shooting every alien that crossed their paths. "So, when did angels become time machines?" Sam's smile morphed from confused to pleased. She believed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: Welcome back, kids! It's time to see what Sherlock and John are up to. Enjoy the chapter and please review!**

* * *

Mrs. Hudson knocked sharply on the door to the flat. She didn't bother waiting for a response, she bustled right in, a letter in hand. John Watson sat just on the other side of the room, typing slowly on his laptop. Sherlock came in sight as she moved farther into the room. He was focusing his microscope, looking at some small detail.

"Knock knock." She caught their attention. John glanced up at once but Sherlock didn't stir. "Are you on a case?" She wondered. Sherlock said nothing. He adjusted his microscope again, seeming to not listen. In reality, he heard every word and analyzed it faster than most people could think.

"Just finished one, actually." John replied for his friend. He smiled at the woman, determined to show her kindness while Sherlock gave her silence. He was actually typing up the case they had just finished. Sherlock was observing some sort of blood mutation as an experiment. John hadn't asked. He had given up on trying to understand the bizarre detective.

"Well, Mrs. Turner next door got a letter from her cousin and she wanted you to take a look." Mrs. Hudson handed John the letter. He pulled it from the envelope and began reading it. His lips moved ever so slightly as his eyes scanned the lines, tracing the words as his mind processed them.

"A case." John surmised, his eyebrows lifting. "In America."

"Will you take it? She'd be ever so grateful!" Mrs. Hudson asked, thankful that the boys had just finished a case. Sherlock stood silently and crossed the room. He scanned the letter in John's hand, analyzing it in just under a minute.

"Well, sounds like our sort of thing. What do you think, Sherlock?" John inquired, looking up at the tall man.

"We've got nothing else on." Sherlock said, moving back towards his experiment.

"That's a yes." John explained, handing the letter back to Mrs. Hudson who smiled and thanked him before bustling back out to tell Mrs. Turner. "You do want to take the case, don't you?" John tried to affirm with the man.

Sherlock's eyes may have been staring into the microscope but his mind was far from it. America. The one place he was reluctant to go. Those Winchester brothers were there, their accents giving them away as clear as day. Sherlock didn't trust them in the least. Going by John's lack of memory he assumed they wouldn't remember either but he didn't want to take that chance. They would shoot him on the spot.

"Yes, obviously." Sherlock hated agreeing but he couldn't say no to the case without arousing suspicion. Besides, what were the odds of running into those boys in the entire population of America? He stopped himself from calculating the exact likelihood at once. He didn't need that weighing on his mind.

"I'll get us a plane. You start packing." John told him, switching tabs to find them transport. Sherlock sighed exaggeratedly before leaving for his room. He had hoped John would do his packing for him but the likelihood of that was slim to none.

As he began to take out socks from his index he made sure to pull out the gun he kept beneath his underclothes. The likelihood of meeting the brothers may have been slim but Sherlock wasn't one to take chances. He has to take at least one of these to America. It wouldn't be all that hard to get it over there. He had done far harder before.

* * *

"Sherlock, hurry up." John demanded. Sherlock snatched his bag up and followed his friend out of the airport. An American cab sat waiting for them, its bright yellow color grating on the detective's eyes. He hated to admit it, but he already missed his flat. He liked his world clean and orderly and America was as far from it as possible.

Sacramento was over two hours from the destination of the men. It was a long time to spend in the car and Sherlock was not looking forward to it. He hated being cooped up doing nothing for so long. He had brought a book that would help him with his blood mutation experiment but he figured that would last only the trip there and not the trip back.

"I've booked us a motel. Couldn't afford anything better since you refused payment on the case your brother gave us." John pulled out his phone and began scrolling down it, grateful for international coverage. He pulled up the notes on his phone detailing their lodging. Sherlock sighed exaggeratedly before pulling out his book.

"There's no need to be like that, we'll only be there for a few days." John told him. "As soon as you wrap this up it's back to Baker Street. This is just a favor since Mrs. Hudson has been so good to us."

"Mmmmm." Sherlock responded, now absorbed in his book. John, sensing he wouldn't get much out of Sherlock for the next couple of hours, pulled out his laptop to continue typing with what battery he had left. John wasn't the fastest typer so he really needed all the time he could get.

* * *

"Reservation for Watson." John pulled out his wallet as he addressed the man at the counter. Sherlock stood nearby, committing a map to memory. The man at the cash register chewed gum slowly as looked the two of them over.

"I thought you wanted two beds." He pulled up the records of the reservation, which was a bit odd. Normally they didn't get reservations in such a small motel in a small town. Especially out of country reservations.

"Yeah, we do." John's eyebrows furrowed, slightly confused.

The man at the counter raised his hands. "Hey, man. I don't judge. Do what you want." He reached over to pull something off its stand. "Here's your key. Return it when you're done."

"Alright, thank you." John said, taking it from him. Sherlock swept out of the room followed by his friend. Within a few moments John had popped the door to their motel room open and he stood in horror at what he was seeing. Sure, he had seen some crappy lodgings but this was a standard room in America?

Sherlock didn't even notice. He flew around the room, examining and memorizing the details before moving back over to John. "Come, John. We don't want to keep our driver waiting." He moved past his friend who rolled his eyes. John followed him out and began helping take trips with Sherlock's suitcases into the room.

Finally, when Sherlock was situated in the room with all of his equipment to unpack, John went out one last time to grab his own bag. He hauled it from the back of the taxi and handed the man a fair amount of the American bills he had acquired. The driver pulled out immediately, clearly needing to get back to work and leaving John Watson alone in the parking lot.

He sighed before turning. He stopped when he caught sight of a car a couple of spots over. It was certainly the most eye catching vehicle he had ever seen. The sun glinted off of the glossy black paint, dazzling the army doctor. He felt a slight pang of envy. He had never been a car person but if he had been, this would be the car he wanted.

Perhaps not everything American was all that ugly, he thought for a moment. Then he stepped back into the trashy motel room and sighed. Then again...

* * *

Sherlock's eyes glanced over the newspaper reports, taking in all the information in just a few moments. He spread them out over the table, his mind finding and eliminating connections almost faster than humanly possible. The images of all the victims were seared onto his brain in an instant; stored away in some compartment of his brain until they would be needed again.

He turned then to his laptop perched in the corner of the table. He scrolled down it, reading more about the personal lives of the victims. All female. All reduced to bloody masses of flesh. Animal? Possible but unlikely as these people were all in the town at the time. Serial killer? Again, unlikely but not impossible. It would explain the pattern of females which animals wouldn't make the distinction between. Then again, that could simply be coincidence.

John rubbed his hair with the towel as he entered the main room of the hotel. He had washed himself in the scummy shower just to try and get the nasty feeling of the motel room off of him. However, he had no luck in this endeavor and felt as though the filth was clinging to him all the more.

"Any luck?" He asked the detective.

"Some. Let's go examine the bodies." Sherlock stood, shutting his laptop.

"Sherlock, I'm in a bathrobe. I'm not dressed!" John protested, waving the towel about.

"Get dressed then!" Sherlock ordered. "We've got work to do, John!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: School is destroying me. No writing time, failing math, hearing that the guy I like asked someone else to homecoming. Just splendid. Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

The door to the Impala creaked open slowly. A pair of boots landed on soft grass and the door was mostly shut behind them. The boots carried their owner to the front of the Impala where green eyes began to appraise the hood of the car. Arms crossed automatically in a defensive gesture. Words were not said as only the crickets were allowed to disturb the silence.

Dean Winchester glanced over at Amy. She was sleepless, possibly a symptom of her recent time travel. Now she was standing beside his car, watching as he lounged back on the hood, beer in hand. The skies were bright with stars but neither had eyes for anything but each other. The silence was almost tangible as Amy moved closer to the strong man.

There was something about Dean that Amy couldn't quite figure out. She felt both drawn to him and incredibly frightened. She moved closer as a way to face her fear of him although she didn't join him on the hood. She felt she wouldn't be welcomed. But Amy needed company tonight. She couldn't bear to spend another night alone.

"Sam asleep?" Dean asked gruffly, noting how she didn't sit next to him.

"Yeah. He fell asleep quick." Amy shuffled her feet awkwardly, not sure how to talk to this man.

"Yeah, well that's Sammy." Dean agreed, taking a pull on his beer. He didn't like the way she made him feel so guilty. The beer helped ease the feeling but it still felt as though his stomach was being crushed. He didn't like that feeling. He also didn't like that he had no idea where it came from. "Why aren't you passed out?" He wondered, pulling a beer out from the cooler next to him and offering it to her.

"No thanks." She pushed the beer away. "Just couldn't sleep."

"Well, there's not always a bed when we go places." Dean defended immediately, prepared to tell her this was exactly the sort of thing to expect. If she didn't like sleeping in his car, she could get the hell out of there.

"No, it's not that. I just-" Amy stopped. She had been about to tell Dean about how lonely she felt. She had been far from home for a long time. And she didn't mean Leadworth. She meant the TARDIS. She missed its endless corridors and her big bed and the sound of the Doctor landing the TARDIS somewhere new for breakfast every morning. But Dean wouldn't understand that.

Dean saw the look in her eyes. Homesickness. He patted the hood beside him, offering up a place he normally only shared with his brother. Amy looked surprised before pulling herself up onto the hood. Dean tore his eyes from her legs which were crossed delicately in front of her. He looked up at the glittering stars instead.

"You miss Leadworth?" Dean asked, glancing at her. He felt an extra twinge of guilt at the sight of her green eyes sparkling with the reflection of every star in the heavens. The pupils shifted from the comet flying across the sky to find Dean's. She blinked, butterflies flying up in her stomach. His eyes were just as perfect as the universe above them.

"No. I was desperate to get out of there. There's not much to do in that tiny town." She explained, balancing herself on the hood with both hands.

"Huh." Dean laughed under his breath before lifting his beer bottle to his lips, looking away from her.

"What?" Amy wondered, looking over at him.

"Nothing. I was just thinking that maybe a quiet childhood wouldn't be so bad." He rolled the bottle in his hand, mind filling with memories of all the motel rooms and diner food he had grown up with. Having a normal house with a mother and father wouldn't be so bad. In fact, he would have loved it. But it was always Dean's fate to be on the road; in the middle of the action at all times. He didn't mind so much anymore but it used to be his only wish to escape this life.

"It wasn't as great as it sounds." Amy told him, watching the look on his face.

"At least you had a normal life. I used to want that more than anything." Dean told her. He didn't know why he was telling her this. Despite the horrible guilt she made him feel, he trusted her. He had no idea why he trusted her so completely but he did. He felt like he could talk to her. He didn't though. He kept it in, just as he did with everyone he trusted.

"Sometimes you don't know how much you love traveling until you can't anymore." Amy told him, her past two years of experience lending a hand. All she had wanted was for the Doctor to come and sweep her off in the TARDIS. But he never came for her.

"Not when it costs you your family." Dean couldn't stop the words. They slipped out before he could stop them and he cursed internally. He didn't want to get into this conversation. Especially with someone he knew next to nothing about.

"I know." Amy told him. Sam had told her a little about their hunting and that, of course, included how they got into it. Amy's hand came hesitantly over his, still unsure about this man. But she couldn't help herself. Despite how scared of Dean she felt for some unknown reason, she liked him. Not because of his looks or his mysterious attitude. Certainly not because of the Busty Asian Beauties magazines or the alcohol he always seemed to have in hand.

Dean looked up into her sparkling green eyes. The pit of guilt in his stomach began transforming into something new. He knew this feeling. It wasn't a hard one to provoke in Dean's case. Amy was incredibly attractive so it didn't surprise Dean in the least that he felt it. He felt himself leaning forwards ever so slightly before pulling back as a flame of guilt burned his insides.

"You don't know anything about me." He defended himself, removing his hand and turning away from her. He took slow breaths. This was a girl that had been mysteriously trapped in 1940 and had requested assistance from angels. So far, the two brothers knew nothing about her and she wasn't telling. He wasn't about to let himself be tangled up with her. As Sam put it, he had to think more with his upstairs brain.

"Go and sleep, princess. You'll need it." He told her. Amy blinked at his sudden coldness. Just a moment ago she had been so close to breaking Dean's shell. Now he was acting just like earlier, cold and weighed down with the weight of the world. She slid off the car silently and began walking away before she stopped. She hated herself for turning back to him but she did it anyways.

"It's not good to be alone, you know." She told him. He turned to her with a smile on his face.

"I've got Sammy."

"Not when you don't tell him anything." She turned and got back into the car, stretching out on the backseat. She curled up under the jacket Sam had offered her, wondering about Dean. He was a puzzle worth solving. She just couldn't let herself get in too deep. When he had looked at her, those butterflies in her stomach had turned into eagles. She couldn't let herself get involved with him in that way.

Dean was right. She really didn't know anything about him.

* * *

The three car doors slammed as the brothers and ginger exited. They collected their bags from the trunk while Dean began unlocking the door. Amy and Sam followed him in, tossing their bags onto the couch. Sam's laptop was out in under a minute, set up the table and chiming with its start up noise. Amy flopped onto the couch in an exhausted manner.

"Nope, no time for that." Dean threw off his coat and began digging through his bag. He addressed this to Amy who looked as though she was about to fall asleep.

"What?" She groaned. Dean continued to take off layer after layer, moving down till he got to his undershirt. This aroused Amy's interest. She found the sleepiness evaporating at the sight of the muscled body. She couldn't help but stare at the hand print burned onto the shoulder facing her. Dean glanced over and caught her staring. He jerked his white dress up shirt over it, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"We're going out to investigate." He began buttoning the shirt, not looking at Amy who was slightly confused.

"You mean one of your case things?" She wondered, noting the rest of the suit Dean had pulled from his bag.

"Yeah. We need to get you a suit and badge." Dean told her.

"Where are we going to get those?"

* * *

The door opened to the motel room and an exhausted looking Amy Pond stumbled in, much to Sam's amusement.

"Tough day?" He asked her. She kicked her heels off into the corner before going to one of the two beds and collapsing on it. "I'll take that as a yes?" There was a mumbled response as Amy talked into the pillow She wiggled herself farther onto the bed, her body arching as her face became more smashed into the bed.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean followed the girl in, dropping a bag full of food onto the table. Sam scooped it up, suddenly ravenous and dug around for his salad. Dean glanced over at Amy and had to swallow when he saw the position she was in. She flopped back down a second later and Dean tore his eyes off of her.

"I see you found Amy a suit." Sam noted, poking around his salad with a fork.

"Yeah, we did." Dean had bought her a suit seeing as her stack of money was relatively small. She had offered to buy lunch in return. Dean had barely been able to tear his eyes off of the tight skirt completing the outfit. It had been showing far too much leg for him to be able to focus. He had tried to shake off the feeling during the investigation but the only thing that came to mind was 'Damn.'

"So, what'd you dig up?" Sam pushed a massive bite of lettuce into his mouth. Dean pulled his burger from the bag as he began to talk.

"Well, it was like Garth said, six vics, all different people. The only connection was that they were all women. But what they've left out of the paper was that there was no heart among any of the corpses." Dean slid the autopsy reports to his brothers who spread them apart to compare them.

"Why didn't anyone notice this pattern before?" Sam asked between bites.

"You didn't see these bodies. They were torn apart. They were masses of flesh with a couple of recognizable bits." Dean, despite the bloody pulps he had just been examining, took a large bite of his burger.

"I don't know how you eat after that." Amy's hair was tousled as she rolled off of the bed. Both boys grinned a little at this but she didn't notice. She peered over Sam's shoulder at his screen, trying to see what he was looking up.

"So, we thinking werewolf then?" Sam tried to confirm. "I mean, the heart's a pretty obvious pattern."

"Yeah, probably. We just need to find out who it is."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: After a long weekend of working on the farm my arm is so sore I can barely type. But I still managed to throw this up because I love you guys so much. Please review and enjoy!**

* * *

"Motive, John! Motive!" Sherlock urged, pacing the room. John rolled his eyes as they continued the conversation they had been having on a loop for the past few hours.

"The victims all knew each other since they all came from such a small town but besides that there is no apparent link. They're all women, but they all had different jobs, ethnicity, religion..." John trailed off, watching his friend who had his hands to his temples in thought. He was staring down at the floor as he paced, trying to think of some reason for these specific people to be targeted.

"There's always a connection, there has to be." Sherlock reasoned.

"Maybe it's just the fact that they're women." John suggested before Sherlock threw his hands up.

"No, there has to be some other reason. Why target these women? They came from all over the town, some even lived a few minutes outside of it. Why these women?"

"Maybe it is just an animal attack, like the police said." John offered. Sherlock's look wasn't enough to stop that statement going any farther. "Those bodies were torn apart, Sherlock. What could do that besides an animal? There are plenty of mountain lions around here that could do something like that. What kind of human would tear them apart so savagely?"

"A madman." Sherlock barely whispered it so that John didn't catch it.

"Sorry, what?"

"It doesn't make sense!" Sherlock yelled, pulling out his gun. He began shooting various rounds at the wall above the beds, aiming at the small flowers on the wallpaper.

* * *

"What the hell?" Dean's head whipped around at the sound of gunfire.

"Is that..." Sam's head cocked as he listened. "a gun?" Dean hurdled on top of his bed to put his ear against the wall. He jumped back at the sound of a bullet lodging itself into the other side of the wall.

"Why would people be firing guns at a wall?" Amy jumped up onto the bed to stand beside Dean, ear against the wall.

"Well, it sounds quiet now." Sam said, watching the two with one hand hanging lazily over his keypad.

"Should we check on them?" Dean asked, glancing back at his brother who shrugged.

"Come on, boys." Amy insisted, pulling Dean by the hand off of the bed. Her bare feet were nearly silent as they landed on the floor while Dean's boots clumped loudly. Amy then took Sam by the hand and made the two follow her out. They exchanged surprised looks. They hadn't quite grown accustomed to Amy's control over a situation.

"Oi! Gun men! You all right in there?" She shouted as she pounded on the door with a fist. There was dead silence in response. "Oi!" Amy shouted again, knocking louder. Still no reponse. She pressed her ear against the door, listening. It seemed to be dead silent in the motel room. "Anyone home?" She tried one last time.

"Looks like they left." Sam observed, peeking through a small crack in the curtains. "All their stuff is there but no one's home. They've got a lot of weird stuff." Sam squinted as he peered in, making out the shapes in the shadows.

"Weird like hunter weird?" Dean asked, pushing his brother aside to look. "Is that a microscope?" He wondered.

"Yeah, and there's a book on blood mutations on the table. These guys must be doctors or scientists or something." Sam thought aloud.

"Who brings a microscope to a motel?" Amy wondered, butting in front of Dean to see what they were gawking at.

"Well, it doesn't matter." Dean straightened up and the other two followed his lead. "They're gone for now so let's just continue doing our jobs."

"I'll go talk to the husband. You two go and talk to the third vic's sister." Sam reminded them. The three paused for a moment to pick up things from their room. Amy scooped up her heels with reluctance. They were making her feet incredibly sore.

"Do I have to go?" She whined, following them to the Impala.

"You're the one who wanted to stick around." Dean's keys jingled as he swung into his beloved car. "Welcome to the job."

* * *

~Earlier~

"How many times have I told you, we don't shoot guns at walls." John tossed the weapon aside. "Now, our cab is here, so let's get out of here before someone calls the police." Sherlock moodily followed John outside. They jumped into vehicle which began bumbling down the uneven asphalt. "I'll talk with the witness and you can speak to the local police. "

"I don't see why I can't shoot guns at the walls. It doesn't harm anyone." Sherlock mumbled.

"Did you actually hear anything I said?" John interrupted irritably.

"I could pay for the wall damages if they would still let me shoot." John heaved a sigh and rested his forehead in his palm. Sherlock Holmes could get under his skin faster than anyone else he had ever known. Then again, he suspected most people felt that way.

* * *

"Thank you for your time Mr. Tarsitano." Sam bounced down the steps towards the Impala waiting in the driveway. He pulled open the driver's side and started the car. It trundled along the path, aiming for a couple of blocks away where Miss Pond and Dean should have been waiting for him. He parked it just outside the house, waiting for them to finish their talks with the sister.

Sam couldn't wrap his around Miss Amelia Pond. She was a puzzle and a mystery locked up in an attractive ginger body. How had a seemingly ordinary girl from Leadworth ended up trapped in 1940 America? She had mentioned something about Cas being a reverse from a weeping angel. What did that mean? Sam hadn't spent his entire time at the motel looking up information on the case at hand. Per his brother's instructions, he had been looking up records.

As far as Sam could tell, Amy Pond was real. Born in Scotland in 1989 she had then proceeded to move to Leadworth and live with a woman named Sharon. She had an extensive list of psychiatrists from her childhood and was employed for a long time as a kissogram. This had caused Sam a chuckle. He could certainly see her fitting this job.

"I don't understand why you have to be such a bloody flirt." Sam's head spun at the sound of the Scottish accent floating across the yard. The two came down from the porch, Amy rolling her eyes and Dean with a smile on his face.

"Just part of my charm, sweetheart." He teased her.

"Moron." She shoved his arm playfully as they came down the walkway. Sam unlocked the doors, allowing his brother to slide into the front seat and Amy to take her place in the back.

"What'd you find out?" Sam asked, mostly looking at his brother but sneaking a peak at Amy in the mirror. Dean held up a piece of paper which Sam took. He made a face when he saw what was written on it. "Her phone number?"

"She's a journalist." Dean raised his eyebrows, the smirk growing across his face. Sam shoved the paper back at Dean's chest and he laughed. "What?"

"Anything useful?" He directed this one at Amy.

"Dean asked these questions about cold spots and rotten egg smells. I assume those are monster related." Amy leaned forward on the part of the seat between the brothers. She rested her right cheek on her arms, looking up at Sam.

"Ghosts usually cause a drop in temperature when they're haunting a place." Sam began explaining. "And demons leave sulfur behind when they possess people."

"I think we can rule out ghosts since all of these attacks occurred in different places. Unless we're facing ghost possession?" Dean theorized. "That ghost Dirk rode kids for miles from his remains."

"Remains? You mean like a body?" Amy wondered, trying to keep up with the brothers.

"Yeah, a spirit is usually tied to their body and they haunt places where they died or near their remains." Dean explained.

"So, you get rid of the body you get rid of the ghost, yeah?" Sam and Dean exchanged stunned looks.

"You sure catch on fast." Sam complimented her.

"I have to if I wanna keep up with the Winchesters." She punched Sam's arm softly. He couldn't contain the grin that spread over his face.

"Sometimes when the body's cremated there will be something left over, a lock of hair or blood and they can hang onto that. Then you gotta find it and burn it." Dean took her attention back and she turned her head to listen to him.

"Do you_ have_ to burn it?" Amy wondered.

"Unless you've got another way to get rid of a body." Sam offered.

"Alright, so you said ghosts are tied to one place? The attacks are everywhere. No ghosts and no sulfury smells so you think no demons." Amy surmised.

"Yeah, but there could be a hundred other things on the list." Sam revved the engine, suddenly aware of how awkward they were sitting in front of the house.

"Monster hunters don't have it easy." Amy leaned backwards again, relaxed by the purr of the engine. In fact, she was nearly lulled to sleep by it.

"Got that right." Dean agreed, looking at her in the mirror. He watched her eyes slide lazily closed and a shadow of a smile fluttered on his face. Finally, someone who appreciated Baby's purr as much as he did.

Dean slipped the piece of the paper with the prospective phone number on it into the inside pocket of his suit coat. "Dude, seriously?" Sam protested upon seeing this. Dean grinned before shrugging.

"Girl just lost her sister, Sammy. She needs consoling."

"Sammy?" Amy's voice chimed from the back.

Sam felt a flush rising up his neck and burning his ears. "Yeah, it's a stupid nickname Dean insists on calling me."

"Well, I like it." She told him firmly.

Sam chuckled. "Whatever." Amy grinned at the uncomfortable man. She was liking him more and more.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: More of a filler chapter here until things get good. Enjoy these while they last because things start to get complicated. School is driving me out of my mind and then there's the school dance on Saturday, of course. And I get to watch the guy I like dance with another girl. Greeeeat. But enough of my bitterness: Enjoy the chapter and please review!**

* * *

"Get up!" Amy insisted for the fourth time, shaking the shoulders of Dean Winchester. He groaned and put a hand over her face. "What are you doing?" She mumbled into his palm.

"Looking for the snooze button." He groaned, flopping over onto his stomach. She made a face he didn't see before brightening with an idea. With one mighty heave, she pushed him off of the bed where he landed in the small crack between bed and wall. There was a muffled thumping as he tried to get back up and Amy laughed.

"What is with you two and pushing me off the bed?" He complained, poking his head up. He directed these words towards Sammy who had joined them from out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

"Hey, man, don't look at me. It was her idea to wake you up." Sam held his hands up in self defense, his words jumbled by the toothbrush. Amy spread herself on Dean's bed, watching him.

"What are you doing?" He asked in confusion.

"You're not getting back in bed. You're going to shower and get dressed." She insisted.

"I can sleep on the floor." His head and torso vanished again, down into the blankets he had taken with him onto the floor. Amy reached down and pulled these away from him. She balled them up and leaned on them so he wouldn't take them back. "Oh, come on. This is cruel. I was out until 3 last night!"

"Yeah, at the bar! That's your fault not ours!" Amy tugged on his arm until he shifted back into a sitting position. "And you sleep with your shoes on?" She raised an eyebrow at the dirty boots.

"Shut up." He heaved himself onto his feet, looking down at the ginger lounging on his bed. "You're a real buzz kill you know that?"

"It's part of my charm." She winked at him and he couldn't stop himself from grinning. She had spunk. He pushed his brother out of the bathroom, the door thudding closed behind him. Amy jumped off of his bed before bouncing towards the younger Winchester. "So, Sammy boy. What are we up to today?"

"Well," He flipped open his laptop, keying in his password. "We've got to find out who's doing this. If it's a werewolf like we think it'll probably be someone who knew all the victims. The thing is that this town is so small that everyone knows everyone. Kinda makes it hard to narrow down." He shrugged and Amy bit her lip in thought.

"What if it was someone they all talked to recently? Someone they could have made mad?" She theorized, plunking down in the seat opposite him. Sam's brow furrowed as he thought about it.

"Except one of them had been homesick with the flu for two days. Who would she have come in contact with in that space of time?" Sam argued, typing something into his search engine.

"Maybe a doctor." Amy's eyes were far away as she said it. Sam glanced up at her and saw this.

"Hey, you okay?" He wondered, pushing his laptop so it wasn't quite between them.

"I'm just a little homesick." She smiled sadly at him.

"You can always find a plane to get back to Leadworth." He told her seriously, sipping out of a water bottle. He sincerely hoped she wouldn't. He rather liked Amy and he knew Dean did too, even if he would never admit it.

"No, it's not Leadworth." Amy's finger traced a pattern on the wooden tabletop. Sam noted absently what a vivid shade of red they had been painted. They were as striking as Amy herself. "I've got a friend called the Doctor. We traveled together for a while. And I miss him."

"You've mentioned him a lot. Were you two..." Sam raised his eyebrows at Amy who laughed.

"No, nothing like that. He was my friend. My first friend actually. Crashed his" She hesitated. "vehicle into my shed in the dead of night. No warning. He was gone for a long time after but then he came back for me. I was just a little girl when I met him. Seven years old."

"He must be a lot older than you." Sam observed, seeing as how he was driving when she was only seven. He noticed how her eyes sparkled with laughter when he said that.

"You have no idea."

"So who is he then? Why do you miss traveling with him so much?" Amy bit her lip again and Sam tried not to frown. She was hiding something and this Doctor man seemed to be at the center of it. "You said he was going to rescue from 1940. How would he do that?" He pressed, more than a little curious about this strange woman who had landed in their laps.

Her mouth opened slowly and Sam swallowed a little. Her pink lips had parted to reveal perfect white teeth. Sam leaned forward in confidence, eager to hear what she had to say about this Doctor man. Just as the smallest beginning of a word began coming out of her mouth, the door to the bathroom slammed open.

"Hey, I'm starving. Can we get some breakfast?" Dean was rubbing a towel over his hair, drying the spiky ends. Amy leaned back from the table, much to Sam's disappointment. He felt a little angry at his brother for ruining the moment but he knew it wasn't Dean's fault. Dean threw the towel onto his bed before rummaging in the fridge. "Where's the booze?" He asked aloud.

"I cleared it out." Amy told him, pulling her legs up onto the seat and crossing them. "What did you do in there? Take a thirty second shower?"

"I clean up fast when there's a job in town. Now, where'd you put it?" He demanded, closing the fridge and turning to face her.

"I told you. I cleared it out. Threw it away. We're keeping you strictly on water for a while." Amy told him. Sam grinned. Amy was going to separate Dean from his alcohol? That was like trying to help a crack addict. Normal people wouldn't be able to keep this up for a day. And yet, Amy wasn't most girls, he supposed.

"That's not funny. Where did you put it?" Dean demanded again, approaching her with slow measured steps.

"I got rid of it. What are you deaf as well as stupid?" Amy made an annoyed face at him and Dean looked to his brother for support. Sam raised his hands in denial of involvement, his smirk betraying his amusement at the situation.

"Oh, so you think this is funny. You can't tell me what to drink." He pointed an accusing finger at her.

"Try me." Sam looked between the two, unsure of which will was stronger. Amy's eyes narrowed and Dean's arms crossed. After a few moments that were awkward for the younger Winchester, Dean sighed exaggeratedly and turned away from her. "Good, you can go get breakfast. No beer." She pointed a finger at him, squinting as though she could read his mind.

"I'm going. I'm going." He waved his jacket in the air as he left the room and Sam could only gawk at the red haired woman.

"What are you looking at?" She caught him staring. Sam closed his mouth, realizing it was hanging open slightly.

"I've never seen Dean back down from anyone." Sam told her honestly.

"I'm not anyone." She winked at him and he grinned before he felt his chest heave. He plunged a hand into his pocket as he began coughing. His plaid sleeve went over his mouth as the other searched valiantly. Amy cocked her head before realizing how much pain he was in. She jumped up and raced to the bathroom, returning with a ball of toilet paper.

Sam took this gratefully and held it to his mouth as he continued coughing. Amy patted him on the back as his scratchy throat felt slippery liquid forced its way up. Finally, the fit subsided and he pulled the paper away from him. It was covered with his blood, a horrible side effect of the trials. Amy stared at it with wide eyes and Sam shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. He balled it up and threw it in the trash.

"What's wrong with you?" It was more of a demand than a question.

"It's a long story."

* * *

Dean was practically cursing under his breath as he revved the Impala. Stupid girl, throwing away his whiskey. He had spent a fair amount of his money on that. Screw her, he would down a quick shot at the bar before he grabbed her friggin' breakfast. He didn't know why he hadn't put his foot down. That horrible guilt had crept up and twisted his gut as she stared at him with determined eyes.

The Impala trundled down the street as Dean began investigating for a good bar. He was already missing his morning shot of alcohol. He spotted a bar just next to diner. He supposed he could grab some pancakes or something for his brother and the chick. He didn't know if she liked them. Hell, he knew next to nothing about her.

Then his eyes slid past the bar to see a gaggle of people in the streets. Frowning, he parked his car along the side of the road and stepped out. His boots clunked across the pavement and his hand went automatically into his pocket for an ID. He flashed it to the police who were keeping the people back.

He stooped down to examine the pools of blood and left over bits of flesh. Another victim, it would seem. He poked a finger into the blood. Still warm. He stood, wiping the crimson onto his jacket. He turned back to the crowd and approached a blond man who was observing the gruesome sight.

"Agent Smith." He flashed his ID and the man stuck out a hand.

"Doctor John Watson, hello." He spoke with a British accent and Dean straightened a bit as he recognized the look of a soldier in his eyes.

"Did you see the attack?"

"No, I'm investigating it. My friend and I are detectives. We were hired to take a look." He explained.

"Well, I hope you won't mind if I ask you to share your findings?" Dean wasn't asking. He could flash his badge again if he needed to but he suspected this man would cooperate. Soldiers recognized each other. They knew when the other needed something.

"Of course Agent Smith. Should we go and see the body?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes: Homecoming took it out of me. Sort of glad it's over now. I need to focus on getting my crap grades up. Enjoy the chapter and please review!**

* * *

"What's the diagnosis, Doc?" Dean watched as the body slid out in front of the two doctors and himself. Not that one could actually call it a body anymore. It was more of a hunk of bloody flesh with a couple of internal organs torn to shreds. Even Dean felt the need to wince a little. This brutality was arguably some of the worst he's seen.

"Well, we can safely say death from physical trauma." Doctor Watson observed. Dean glanced at him, unsure if he was trying to lighten the mood or not. He didn't seem as terrified or sick as most civilians would. He was examining the remains with a cool professional glaze over his eyes. Dean swallowed down his queasiness and did the same.

"Was there a heart recovered from the body?" He asked the coroner, glancing up at him.

"Not that I could see." The man replied, poking a probe into the soupy mess that was the stomach of the poor woman. He pushed aside bits of flesh to show the insides which had been turned to slop. Dean peered in. He had seen something like this before. Nothing so savage but still with similar traits.

"These are claw marks." Watson echoed Dean's thoughts. He looked over at the man, impressed.

"So, mountain lion?" Dean asked him, curious to see what he would think.

"Well, that was the first assumption, but why is it only going after women then?" Watson turned to him, exerting a confidence that Dean had rarely seen.

"Could be a coincidence." Dean didn't know why he was bothering. This man would never guess there could be a monster at work. Yet there was something about him that Dean liked. Maybe it was that he was a fellow soldier. Maybe it was though he looked like he had seen hell he was still okay, still sane and that gave Dean hope for himself. Or maybe Dean was just spoiling for a good argument.

"I've learned that coincidences are lies people tell themselves to make sense of things they don't understand." Dean looked down on this man who must have been at least half a foot shorter than him. Yet the way he stood, you would have thought they were the same height. Dean couldn't help but like this man.

"You're smart, I'll give you that. But why don't you leave this one to the cops." He turned back to the coroner. "I'll take a copy of your autopsy." The man handed it to him and Dean saluted to the pair. "Gentlemen." He left the building looking over the reports. Again, no heart. The lunar cycle was still correct. Claw marks all over the victim. Seems they had a werewolf on their hands.

* * *

"Yeah, Sherlock, I'm on my way. Yes, I've got the reports right here. Sherlock? Hello?" John sighed and clicked his phone off. That man couldn't say goodbye properly if it was the last thing he ever did. He shifted the reports in his hands. That agent, what was his name? Smith? He had pointed out a pattern that John had missed entirely. Sherlock had picked up on it but at the time the two hadn't thought it meant anything.

No heart. John hadn't taken notice because the insides had been so thoroughly destroyed it was hard to tell the difference between organs any how. But both men were correct. None of the hearts were present. All these women, all their hearts missing. John had meant what he had said earlier. He didn't believe in coincidence. There was something going on here and if his best friend was correct, it meant a serial killer. And Sherlock was almost always correct.

He turned the corner down the street to see his dark haired best friend speaking to a woman with a bounty of blonde hair. He smiled as he approached and the woman looked him over appreciatively. He coughed and Sherlock turned to him.

"This is my partner, John." Sherlock waved a hand in his direction and John nodded at her. She smiled at him, batting her eyelashes as she extended a hand.

"Michelle." She introduced. He shook her hand a little roughly, much more concerned with the case at hand. "I saw the whole thing." She told him, observing him from under heavily made up eyelids. She still hadn't let go of his hand and he had to pull it away from her. "I was just telling Detective Sherly here all about it."

Sherlock's jaw tightened as she nicknamed him but he said nothing about it. "Tell him about where she had been." He asked her, controlled anger obviously under the words. Michelle didn't seem to notice as she was still looking over the blonde man.

"Well, she was leaving the Magnolia Hotel to go out for an early breakfast. She's a writer and I supposed she wanted to take an early morning hike for inspiration or something. I met her yesterday and she said something about it. What do you like to do in the early morning, John?" She ran her tongue over her slightly crooked teeth.

"Can you tell us anything about the attack?" He tried to turn the conversation back around. He was attempting not to be queasy about this woman's affections.

"Sure. This black thing came out of no where and jumped her. I couldn't see what it was because it was so dark. I was out to get an early morning drink and I saw it from behind. I ran into that alley off the side so I couldn't see much. Eventually the thing went off and poor girl was just a lump of dead. That shadow just vanished after that. I didn't know what it was but it was gone. Mysterious, huh?" She bit her lip as she stared up at him.

"Yes fascinating." Sherlock commented before he began walking away. John hurried after him, listening as Sherlock began to speak. "Now, I didn't notice it before but there is a connection that we over looked." He said under his breath.

"What is it?"

"Wait!" Michelle called after them. Sherlock tried to keep walking but she caught them by their arms. "Hey!" She spun them around to face her. "I haven't given you my phone number." She began scribbling on John's hand with a pen, the numbers smudged but legible. Then she caught him by the edge of his sweater and pulled his face to hers.

Sherlock tried to keep the amused look off his face as he saw the distressed expression on John's. When she finally pulled away, there was cheap pink lipstick smeared over his face. She winked at him. "Call me, John." She turned on her heel and swayed her hips as she walked. John stared at her incredulously.

"The Magnolia, John." Sherlock snapped his attention back to the problem at hand.

"Sorry, what?" John blinked at him.

"The Magnolia. It's the connection."

* * *

"Oh. Oh, of course." Sam breathed, shuffling through the pages.

"What?" Amy's head popped up from behind the book she was reading.

"The Magnolia Hotel. All these women have connections to the Magnolia."

"What do you mean?" Dean slid off of his bed to pad across the floor to his brother's side. His brow furrowed as he examined the paper and he felt rather than heard Amy come up beside him. His breath caught for a moment before he focused on what his brother was saying.

"So get this, the first woman, her brother owns the Magnolia. Then there's these others. This one had just gotten fired from there, one of them visited a relative there, and this most recent one was staying the night there. That's where it must be hiding. It's targeting women that visit the Magnolia. It must be hiding there."

"Solid theory, little brother." Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder and Sam couldn't stop a smile at the pride on Dean's face. "So what's the plan? We go in at midnight and gank the thing?"

"Looks like it."

* * *

"Do we actually have to kill it?" Amy whispered into Dean's ear. Her lips tickled his ear and a slight queasy feeling worked in his stomach. Another twist of guilt smothered what little other emotion her proximity elicited in him.

"What else are supposed to do with it? It's killing off civilians." He muttered back.

"Killing it seems a bit extreme."

"We got no other choice, princess." He moved forward down the dark hallway, ending the conversation. Amy followed along, trying to minimize the sounds her boots made as she walked. The cement basement floor nearly gave them away as it made their footsteps echo slightly. Shadows danced in the doorways and Amy found her hand curling around the sleeve of Dean's jacket.

"What?" He asked automatically, his ears turning slightly pink. He became extremely grateful for the dark lighting so that Amy couldn't see. She had grabbed onto his gun arm and unfortunately, he couldn't have that at the moment.

"Nothing." Amy removed her hand once she realized what she was doing. "Let's go find your werewolf." Amy walked almost beside him, trying to show that she wasn't afraid. Dean grinned a little at this. "Which door?" She mouthed at him as she looked around.

He pointed at the doors on the end. They were a double set and quite heavy looking. "Hey." Sam breathed as he joined them in the hall. Amy jumped a little but Dean had heard his gigantic brother coming from a mile off. "We good?" Dean nodded and the three of them advanced on the entrance to the monster's lair.

Dean felt better with Sam at his back, always guarding him, always protecting. The group stood around the doors. Dean held up three fingers as a signal and Sam nodded. Amy glanced between them, unsure of what he meant. Sam pulled her gently by the arm out of Dean's way. Her ginger hair bounced as she jumped when Dean kicked the door open.

Sam raced in after his brother and Amy followed a little more hesitantly. Dean's gun pointed around the room, looking for a target. Sam mimicked his movements and all of them jumped as another set of doors on the other side of the room burst open. In rushed a dark haired man and a shorter blond man, both trailing weapons on the bizarre sight in the center of the room.

Amy pushed Dean aside and he glanced at her in surprise. Her form was confident as she ran up to the strange happenings in the middle of the room. "Doctor!" She called out, a smile blooming on her flawless face. Dean and Sam exchanged glances. _The_ Doctor?


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: Things are starting to get complicated! Enjoy and please review!**

* * *

"Clara! The net!" The Doctor yelled to the small girl. It took all of her weight thrown into the lever to force it down. The Doctor rolled away as a net fell clattering to the floor. Trapped beneath it was an enormous creature. The fluorescent lights glittered off its translucent skin. It roared angrily and The Doctor leaped into action. He found himself on its back, arms squeezing around its neck.

"Doctor!" A voice caught his attention. His head swiveled automatically toward the sound. His eyes widened as he saw who was speaking.

"Amy?" The creature bucked trying to shake off the extra weight.

"Doctor!" His hand found the sedative in his pocket and he jammed it into its neck. It roared again, this time with less power. It teetered dangerously before falling face first onto the floor. The Doctor somersaulted forward, landing on his back. A giant snore rocked the room and the Doctor breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing hearts.

"Doctor!" His vision was suddenly obscured by a mane of ginger hair. Vague smells of cinnamon filled his nostrils and he could scarcely believe it. In fact, he wondered if he had gotten a little sedative himself. "Doctor, it's me!"

"Amy?" He shifted himself up to a sitting position, moving the woman away so he could look at her. He blinked in surprise at the sparkling green eyes. "Amy?"

"Doctor!" She was grinning crazily at him.

"No, it can't be you. Amy was trapped in New York in 1940. It can't be her." He pushed her away, scrambling to his feet. He reached into his jacket for his sonic.

"It's me, Raggedy Man!" She stared up at him with a disbelieving look on her face. There was a whirring sound as the Doctor scanned her, looking for some sign of anything out of the ordinary.

"Prove it." He frowned as the readings reached his brain. She was human, completely and 100% human but there were strange particles clinging to her. He flipped it to a different setting but the readings still made little to no sense.

"Fish fingers and custard." She bit her lip as she grinned at him. His eyes widened and the sonic froze.

"Amelia Pond. You always find your way back, don't you?" She laughed as she threw her arms back around his neck.

"Well it wasn't easy. Didn't you get my message?"

"No, you left a message?"

"What the hell is this?" A gruff voice interrupted. The Doctor head turned to see two boys approaching him. They were both taller than him and he straightened his bow tie nervously.

"Boys, this is the Doctor." Amy grinned and the Doctor looked at her questioningly. What was she doing with these boys? They had guns and she knew that the Doctor didn't approve of those. In fact, most of the time she agreed with him on the no guns policy. "Doctor, these are the Winchesters. They saved me."

"So, this is your Doctor friend?" The taller man kept glancing back at the alien behind them as he spoke.

"This Sam Winchester and his brother Dean." The Doctor noted the slight glow in her eyes as she introduced the boys.

"What the hell is that?" The shorter one asked, gesturing at the alien sleeping underneath the net.

"Oh!" The Doctor spun back around towards the collapsed being. "That is a Garofax from the planet Jirar. Nasty creatures. I'm going to take it back home. Now, my question. Who are they?" The Doctor turned on his heel, pointing at the strangers across the room. One of the brothers swore under his breath.

"An alien." The taller stranger said, bending over it. "Fascinating."

"Fascinating?" The blond protested. "That's all you can say? That's an alien! A bloody proper alien! Have we been drugged again?"

"Hang on." Dean moved past the Doctor who looked surprised. "You're that doctor. Watson, wasn't it? How did you get here?"

"Oh it was a simple matter of finding the connection between the victims. Although, I admit this has had your scent all over it." The other man stood toe to toe with Dean Winchester, glaring at him.

"My scent? How the hell do you know who I am?" Dean's hand was tightening around his gun and the Doctor felt that this was his cue to step in.

"Oi! No guns! Second rule." He pushed them apart, wriggling between them. "Now, who are you?" he directed this question up to the dark haired man.

"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. I was called in on the case of these women being torn apart." He introduced, not backing down from the staring contest he and Dean appeared to be having.

"Alright, I've got questions. But first, we've got to get slimy here back on the TARDIS." The Doctor began heaving the alien's head up, struggling under the weight.

"Oi! Doctor, what's going on here?" Clara bounded up, looking at all the people. "You're just going to invite them all onto the TARDIS?"

"Don't be rude, Clara!" The Doctor protested, trying to push the creature. "Come on, everyone! Let's get this thing going! Amy go open the TARDIS door would you? I assume you still have your key." Amy's hand pulled up a chain from around her neck.

"Gotcha. Where is she?"

"Behind those boxes. Dean, Sam, help me get her up." The Doctor insisted.

"Her?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, she's not an it. Now come on already!" Brimming with questions, the other five gathered around the snoring creature and began to shift it. Amy bounded away behind a pile of crates and the Doctor could hear the tell tale sound of the TARDIS lock clicking open. Amy poked her head around the corner a moment later, telling the Doctor the TARDIS was ready.

The six of them hauled the creature past the pile where the Doctor's beautiful blue box waited, Amy leaning against the doorway. "Come on then." She insisted, her hair flying as she turned and ran farther into the console room. None of the others noticed, looking down at their heavy load as they shifted it. They pulled it over the edge of the box before dropping it heavily.

Then they looked up. The Doctor grinned as he watched them. There was a variety of expressions on their faces, disbelief, confusion, awe. Clara stood beside the Doctor, sharing his smile as she watched them fret. Almost as one, the four men exited the box, examining the sides of it. There was chatting and panicked voices and The Doctor found himself repressing a laugh.

Sam Winchester, the one that the Doctor had mentally dubbed 'Mammoth', was the first to come back into the TARDIS, looking up at the ceiling. "It's bigger in here." His eyes were wide as he spun around, trying to absorb what he was seeing. "But how?"

"It's a long story and I'll tell you all about it later." The Doctor clapped a hand on his shoulder. "But right now, everyone in!" He called out the door. "We need to take her home." Sherlock came in next, his face unusually calm. Dean stumbled a little over the lip of the box, looking up at the ceiling.

"Steady there, soldier." Amy grinned as she caught his arm. He was gaping even as he looked down at her. "First time is a bit hard but you'll get used to it." She winked at him before she stuck her head out of the TARDIS. "Come along, what was it? Watson?" She grabbed him by his sleeve and pulled him in..

"John. John Watson." He tripped over the creature still just inside the doorway.

"Amy Pond." She told them, closing the door. The Doctor was flying around the console immediately, flipping switches and the TARDIS began humming. "You seem calm." She nudged Sherlock with an elbow.

"I've done my research." He told her, eyes sweeping over the poorly lit interior.

"Sorry, what?" The grin fell slowly from Amy's face. And the Doctor glanced over at them. He felt disappointment as he looked at the tall dark man. Such a great disappointment and he had no idea why. No matter. That could be dealt with later. After inserting a date into the TARDIS, he hit one last button before the entire box began to rattle. The time vortex churned around them, hurtling the box in multiple directions.

Everyone either fell to the ground or clutched the railings for support. Dean looked positively terrified as he held the railing with one hand and his brother with the other. The Doctor grinned as the place shook. Amy was laughing her head off even as she had fallen on top of the surprised looking Holmes. Clara grinned, a little unsure at all the strangers in the TARDIS. John was the only one completely upright as he held tight to a railing, his knuckles white.

"MAKE IT STOP OR I SWEAR I WILL THROW UP OVER ALL OF YOU!" Dean yelled over the grinding noise of the engines. The Doctor was still grinning like a mad man, legs spread wide to avoid falling. There were a couple more button presses before the engine noise began to fade and the floor to stop shaking.

Within moments, Dean had jumped out the door, quickly followed by a concerned brother. The Doctor watched them go before moving over to the alien laying collapsed on the floor. "Amy! Help me get her up!" He asked, trying to shove the creature towards the doorway.

"Sorry, Sherlock but I love a tall man." Amy winked as she climbed off of the detective who blinked up at her in surprise. "Did you have to find such a heavy alien?" She demanded, pushing with the Doctor.

"Did you have to bring boys with guns?" The Doctor demanded, feeling that this subject needed to be discussed, especially since everyone except the two of them and Clara had gone out.

"Oi, who's she?" Clara took up position on the other side of the Doctor, helping to push.

"Clara, this is Amelia Pond." The Doctor introduced, grunting with the effort to push at the tail end of the beast.

"You can call me Amy." She smiled at the younger girl. "I suppose your the Doctor's new friend."

"So what if I am?" Clara defended immediately.

"It's good." Amy said quietly, her arms aching from the strain of pushing this creature. "the Doctor shouldn't travel alone. I got worried when I left that he would be alone and not look for anyone." The Doctor exchanged a look with Clara, unseen by the ginger.

"Nope." the Doctor kept in a relieved sigh as Clara lied. "He was sad when I met him but he was okay." She smiled and The Doctor nodded his agreement. From the look in her eyes, the Doctor wasn't sure if she believed Clara but he was saved from having to back up her statement by the sound of the alien's head thumping onto the ground outside.

"Ah, here we are!" The Doctor jumped around the creature, now pulling it out gently by its head. "Fat lot of help you were." He accused the others who were hanging around the box.

"We've moved. How have we moved?" John was running his hands over the wood of the box.

"We traveled through the time vortex and now we're on the planet Jirar. Isn't anyone paying attention?" He directed this question towards Sherlock who didn't respond. The Doctor noticed Amy patting the other Winchester, not Mammoth, the other one, on the back. He vomited one last time into the long grass before wiping his mouth.

"He hates planes." Mammoth commented to Amy.

"It's not a plane! It's a space ship!" The Doctor bounced over to join them, taking the net with him. The creature slumbered pleasantly in the grass behind him.

"Anything that flies. Those things crash." Dean wiped a little remaining bile from the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I promise to take it easier on the way back." The Doctor promised.

"No, I'm not getting back in that thing." Dean pointed at the TARDIS with a slight bit of disgust.

"Dean, you can't just stay here. It's an alien planet." Sam insisted.

"You want me to get in the mysterious alien spaceship with the crazy two year old," he jabbed a finger at the Doctor "the girl so little a breeze could topple her over," Clara made a protesting noise. "the guy who seems to know everything about the box even though he's never met the alien, his army doctor friend and the girl we rescued from 1940 that somehow knows about angels? Well, of course _you_ want me to. You're the sci-fi geek!"

Sam made a face at his brother. Amy looped an arm through Dean's. "Come on. It'll be fine." Dean looked reluctant as Amy led him through the blue doors. He cast a glance back at his brother, who nodded to tell him it would be okay.

"I'd say Amy rather likes him." The Doctor commented to Mammoth.

"I think he wants to know what's going on." The Doctor noted the serious look on his face.

"I think we all would."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes: Sorry for the lateness of the chapter, I only got home an hour ago. Enjoy and please review!**

* * *

"Angels?" The Doctor asked.

"Yeah, angels." Dean affirmed.

Sherlock was fed up with all of them. What didn't they get? They were so unwilling to admit that the others were correct. The only one who seemed to not have trouble with all of this besides himself was the red head that had fallen on top of him mid flight. She had balanced herself on top of the railing and was watching the banter with a look of mild amusement.

Of course, he knew that bits of this were new to all of them. Except for him of course. He seemed to be the only one to remember. He could still close his eyes and smell the sweat and dirt on the Doctor as the bullet flew crunching through his skull. It was best that the Doctor didn't remember. The Doctor was a dangerous man, even if he didn't have this bigger-on-the-inside spaceship.

Dean was the same as Sherlock remembered him. Dangerous. A predator. Quite possibly one of the most dangerous men ever to exist. Smart, strong, quick. He had hunter's instincts. He was a killer. Dean Winchester was the reason monsters feared the dark. If he remembered for even a moment that Sherlock had sent a bullet in his brain, Sherlock didn't know if he would survive that encounter.

"Their friend, Castiel, saved me." The ginger put her two cents in. Confident, Sherlock immediately categorized her. Her clothes were older, two years old at least although recently laundered. There were slight wrinkles, just visible, that indicated having been folded and put away for a long time. The fashion itself wasn't that old, maybe just a year, but the cloth itself. Probably the girl had put away the outfit upon arriving in 1938 and was only just getting back to it.

"Castiel, your angel friend who can travel in time?" The Doctor rubbed his hand across his forehead and Sherlock sighed exaggeratedly, annoyed by the man's reluctance to grasp this.

"Can we move past what we've already discussed and go back to London? John and I would love to return to our own time." Sherlock interrupted, coming between the brothers and the alien man. The other woman, Clara, was hovering at the control panel, clearly a little uneasy with the strangers.

"We do?" John looked puzzled by the statement.

"I'm not getting caught in this again. We're going home, John."

"Again?" Damn. Slip of the tongue. He had been preoccupied by the mud caked on the Doctor's left shoe. Now he looked up into the face of the Doctor, noting just as he did in the arena that the Doctor's eyes were so much older than the rest of him. It was as though the knowledge of a hundred lives and the pain of a thousand losses was somehow contained in his youthful body.

"It doesn't matter. We're leaving."

"Oi, no need to be rude." The Doctor protested. "Come with me." The Doctor spun on his heel and skipped up the stairs. Sherlock tried to contain his exasperation as he followed the man, more than a little annoyed. The Doctor said nothing as he led him down hallways crisscrossing through the complex little box. He stopped finally at an octagonal door which opened automatically for him.

"This is the infirmary. We should be able to talk in here." The Doctor hoisted himself on one of the beds, his legs dangling in a child like manner off the side.

"About what I said." Sherlock assumed, not sitting but standing over him. His arms were crossed in a clear indication of his annoyance with the man.

"Weeks ago, or maybe months, it's hard to tell in here, I started crying for no reason. There was a time when I was erased from the universe and only Amy Pond could bring me back. She cried for me even though she couldn't remember. Now, you remember something I don't, I can see it in your eyes. I want to know what it is."

Sherlock was impressed. This man was quite clever. "What makes you think it has to do with you?"

"Because when I look at you I feel disappointed and I don't know why. Maybe that's why you haven't mentioned it to John. Maybe you did something. Or maybe you're trying to protect him. Whatever the reason, I want to know what's been erased from my mind and why. Now, you're going to tell me." His voice was calm but had just the barest trace of a threat behind it.

"I don't think you could handle it." Sherlock said rudely, unsure of what this Doctor was capable of. He had scarcely seen him for a few minutes in the arena. Had he been human, this would be a simple matter and he would have him analyzed down to the buttons on his shirt. But he was an alien. He was something new. Fascinating, but this made it complicated to jump to conclusions.

"You don't get to decide what I know! I tell you to do something, you do it! Now tell me!" The Doctor shouted, jumping up. Even Sherlock quailed slightly at his anger. It must be the ginger woman. She didn't make sense to the alien and that was causing his emotions to get in the way. Emotions were a dangerous thing and Sherlock tried not to let them rule him. This man clearly didn't have his restraint in that area.

"Sorry, Doctor but I think Sherlock is more dominant. He probably prefers top. Isn't that right, Sherly?" A voice interrupted. Both heads swiveled to find a new man had popped in for a visit. Both sets of eyes widened as they saw who was standing in front of them.

"Canton? But how did you-"

"No, not Canton, sorry. Just riding his meat suit. I'm Crowley." He snapped his fingers and the Doctor collapsed on the floor. Sherlock couldn't help the all too human reaction that put him on his knees checking the Doctor's pulse. Extremely irregular but strong. His brow relaxed as he remembered a bit of research on the Doctor. Two hearts. That would explain the irregular rhythm.

"You don't want him remembering." Sherlock stood, his coat swishing about his knees.

"Neither do you. Problem solved." Crowley shrugged his shoulders.

"Unless you don't want him remembering for a reason." Sherlock stalked around the demon, remembering their last encounter vividly. Jim must have explained that Sherlock knew by now. The demon would not underestimate the consulting detective again. "Because you're afraid of the Doctor. And you think he's going to disrupt your plans." Sherlock was reading the man as he continued his circling. It wasn't easy for a demon but doable.

"You had a plan. You stuck us in that arena to distract us. You wiped their minds so that they wouldn't remember it. But I remembered. The wrench in the plans. You can't touch me for some reason. Why is that? If you could have you would have wiped me clean but there's something off, isn't there? Something that could prove a problem."

"Well, I have to say that knowing my every thought is a turn on but I can't stick around. You should call me sometime. Moosey can give you my number. Ta." The demon vanished from the air, leaving Sherlock pacing a circle around nothing. This only confirmed his suspicions. The demon and dear old Jim were playing games. Fascinating. Also best that he alert the Doctor. He would have to explain as best he could to the man and hope the Doctor would focus on the larger problem at hand.

"Doctor." He shook the alien by the shoulder, causing his hair to flop around. "Doctor, wake up now." He frowned as the lack of response continued. "Doctor!" He slapped the young face to no avail. He muttered to himself as he stood. Perhaps there was something in this infirmary that would revive the comatose being.

He shoved vials aside carelessly, looking for something recognizable. After a moment his long fingers closed around something useful. He pulled open a drawer and found what looked like some sort of needle to put the liquid into. He jammed this into the Doctor's arms, the man's two hearts rushing it throughout his system. Sherlock frowned. He had given him enough of the medicine to wake a coma patient at extreme risk to the Doctor. Still, he didn't stir.

Sherlock stood and stuck his head out of the automatic doors into the hallway. "John! I need you!" He called through the echoing hallway. The distant chatter of voices seemed to raise in alarm before coming closer. Satisfied he had their attention, Sherlock turned back to the alien. What had River Song called him? Ah yes, a Time Lord. Last of his kind. She had seemed quite taken with him.

"My god." John was the first to arrive as he had detected the urgency in the voice of his friend. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"A man appeared. He knocked him out by snapping his fingers." Sherlock decided to play innocent for the time being. While the Doctor might understand his reason for shooting him in the head, he was sure Dean Winchester would not.

"This man, what did he look like?" Sam pressed, keen for any leads. Sherlock felt almost guilty as he looked at the man. His death had been so pointless, so empty. If Sherlock had not been so absorbed in the death of his friend which could not be undone, he could have saved him. If he had only been paying a little more attention...

But here he was, alive and well. Sherlock was actually pleased. He was smart, dangerous, and interesting. A fascinating person to say the least. There was a remarkable shortage of those types of people in the world and losing Sam was a tremendous waste of such an individual. And here, Sherlock had his second chance to focus and make sure this engrossing personality didn't see another senseless death.

"He had a Scottish accent and dark hair. I would say fairly important judging by his personality and attitude. He dressed professionally but not by obligation, I would say. He also said that someone called 'Moosey' would be able to identify him." The faces Sam and Dean made as they exchanged looks got the exasperated message across to each other.

"Crowley."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes: Sorry about the late uploading! It's play weekend and I'm crazy busy. So here's the two chapters I missed!**

* * *

"Absolutely not." Dean's arms crossed defiantly. Clara gnawed on the bottom of her lip as she watched him. He intimidated her quite a bit. Perhaps it was his size. Although the other Winchester was at least a foot taller than her and he didn't frighten her as much. In fact, he was rather good looking.

"Why, because you're smarter than me? Stronger? The Doctor is my best friend. If anyone is going in there, it's me." Amy's hands were on her hips, hair tossed back fiercely. At first Clara hadn't known what to make of the girl. She was strong willed and held her own against the older Winchester which Clara admired.

"Because I know how this stuff works. You don't. It could be dangerous." Dean had actual concern in his eyes, hidden beneath all that anger and his frigid attitude toward the girl. Clara could see what was in his eyes. He liked her but he didn't want to admit it. Amy was harder to read. She just looked angry.

"Why don't we all go in?" Sam piped up from next to Clara. She glanced over at him. "We have just enough for all of us to go in. It seems like a better option than standing around arguing."

"Shouldn't we leave someone to watch over our bodies?" John asked and Clara's head turned to her other side where the doctor leaned. He had been remarkably cool about most of this. Clara had much more of a difficult time trying to adapt to what the Winchesters were trying to tell them. Dream walking?

"The TARDIS locks automatically. The Doctor says that only people with a key can get in." She piped up, eager to put her two cents in. She hadn't said much to the strangers and she thought that sometimes they forgot she was there.

"She's right." Amy assured them. "That leaves no reason why any of us should stay here. We all go or we all stay." Dean's face was still hard as he looked into hers but she didn't back down. Clara only glanced between the two, unable to guess what was going on in their minds. They were both stubborn but Clara began to see who was going to win this fight.

"Gimme the dream stuff, Sam." Sam pulled the jar from his bag. He had gone to retrieve it from their motel as soon as the idea had arisen. From what Sam had described of the process, Clara figured he was right, there was just enough for each of them. Amy left the room quickly and Clara spun around and began rattling through the drawers.

"What are you looking for?" John asked her, peering over her shoulder.

"Sammy boy says we need genetic material. I'm looking for," She spun around as she found her prize. "Scissors." She snipped them in front of his face teasingly before turning to her comatose friend. "You always have to leave at the worst times." She scolded him, frowning as she cut off a slight curl at the top of his neck.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to." A deep voice made her glance up in surprise. It was Sam and she gulped, craning her head to look up at him.

"Why wouldn't I want to come?" She raised an eyebrow.

"You just looked a little nervous." He was smiling and she felt more at ease, a smile coming over her own face.

"If she can do it, so can I." She jerked her head in the direction Amy had taken out.

"Huh." Sam chuckled, glancing down at his shoes. "I never said you couldn't."

"I'm going in too. Here's your hair." She pushed it at his chest and he wrapped his enormous fingers around it. Clara blinked as she saw that his hand was at least twice as large as her own. "The Doctor isn't the only one with a sense of adventure." She winked at him before the both turned at the sound of a Scottish accent.

"Got the cups. Do we really have to drink that stuff?" Amy made a face at the liquid and Clara stood up a little straighter. She wasn't afraid to drink that nasty looking thing.

"And a bit of the hair. Sam?" The gigantic man began placing one hair in each of the cups as Amy put them onto another bed. Dean took the jar next and began putting the African dream root in it. Clara leaned over the other side of the bed, looking at the disgusting juices and wrinkling her nose.

"It smells awful." She told Sam who grinned.

"Tastes even worse." He assured her.

"Eugh." Was her only response.

"Alright, we each take a swig of this and we're in his head. You ready?" Dean passed out cups and Clara took hers with nervous hands. Going into the Doctor's head was going to be quite an adventure, one she didn't know if she was ready for. "Get on the beds first. You'll be out instantly." The group spread around the room and pulled themselves up on the beds. Clara hid a smile when she saw how overgrown Sam looked in his bed.

"Bottoms up." The worn plastic rim or her bright pink cup seemed to slip away for a moment before the sensation came back as clear as day. She pulled a face as she set it aside. The others did the same, looking around at each other expectantly. John was looking into his own green cup with a look of distaste.

"I though you said we were going to be knocked out instantly." Clara directed this question to the older Winchester.

"We are knocked out. This is the inside of the Doc's head." He told her, jumping up off the bed.

"But we haven't moved. We're still in the TARDIS." Clara swung herself off the bed as well as the rest of the group formed a circle.

"What else would the inside of the Doctor's head look like?" Amy breathed, laughing as she realized it.

"But if we're inside his head, where is he?" John looked around as though expecting him to jump out at any moment.

"He should be close by. If we can find him and explain it to him we should be able to have him pull us all out." Sherlock rationalized.

"His body's gone!' Clara exclaimed, noting his sudden absence and pointing at the spot.

"Yes, I'd imagine he is somewhere inside this ship of his, hiding for whatever reason." Sherlock examined the table he had just been sitting on and Clara frowned. What on earth was he doing?

"Alright, we've got to find him as soon as we can. Where's the spot he would most likely be?" Sam threw this question out to both of the time travelers and they exchanged looks before they said together.

"The control room."

"Alright, then let's go there." Sam gestured for them to take the lead and Amy strode with confidence to the door, Clara no less than a step behind.

"Doctor!" Amy called out. Her voice rang through the hallways but no response was given. "Doctor, can you hear me?" Clara was surprised when they turned the corner and found themselves back in the control room. She had thought the control room was still a few corridors down. Amy seemed startled also because she came to a stop in the middle of the floor.

"We shouldn't have made it back yet. The corridor is different." She said it barely loud enough for them to hear and as Clara looked at her, she could see the suspicion in the woman's eyes.

"It's not the ship, it's the Doctor's head. It's different." Sam put a hand on the startled woman's shoulder. Clara turned away from the ensuing conversation, curious about something. If they were in the Doctor's head then things were different from reality. So what was behind the doors?

"Guys!" The chatter continued behind her, oblivious to the small girl. "Oi!" Heads snapped up to look at her. "You might want to see this." They moved almost as one towards her as she flung the doors wider. "There's a whole forest out there. A forest in the Doctor's head." There were bodies pressed up against her back as they all squeezed into the small place, looking out towards woods.

"Why a forest?" Sam wondered and Clara tensed. He was right behind her and his voice was far over her head.

"Hang on." There was a shuffle behind Clara as Amy shoved her way to the front. "I know this forest. I was here once and the whole place was filled."

"Filled with what?" Clara wondered, glancing up at her. The green eyes scanning the trees were frightened.

"Weeping angels." Amy glanced down at Clara. Clara did not like that look or the tone with which she said that name.

"What's a weeping angel?" John asked next to Clara.

"A creature of stone that animates when one looks away from it for only a moment. They displace you in time and feed off the remaining rift energy." Sherlock explained in one breath. Amy turned with a questioning look on her face.

"That's right. How did you know that?"

"Look, we need to find the Doc so I say we split up. Half of us take inside and half of us take outside. Does that sound fair?" Everyone nodded at Dean's statement. "Good. Sam and I will take outside. One of you want to tag along?"

"I will." Amy volunteered. The three of them stepped outside the box.

"Meet back here in two hours." Clara was nervous at being left alone with these other two men, one who was strangely aware of everything happening although his friend said it was the first time they had encountered this sort of thing. But she only had to survive two hours with them. That wouldn't be too hard, right?


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes: Sorry about the late uploading! It's play weekend and I'm crazy busy. So here's the two chapters I missed!**

* * *

"Amy?" The Doctor burst into the main control room, eyes darting around for the bright hair. He had heard her calling his name just a few minutes ago and had tried shouting back but her human ears weren't as sharp as his and she didn't hear. He was slightly out of breath from all the running. He didn't know how he had ended up clear on the other side of the TARDIS but set the problem aside.

"Doctor?" A girlish voice caught his attention. He darted through the center of the room and popped out of another door. "Doctor, is that you?" He took a sharp turn around the corner to find a group of three people.

"Clara! Safe and sound!" He grabbed her and kissed her forehead before turning to the two gentleman with her. "Hello again." He did the normal earth greeting for their time period and air kissed both of their cheeks.

"Doctor, do you know where we are?" Sherlock asked, his voice a little suspicious.

"We're on the TARDIS. My turn, where's Amy and Dean and Mammoth?"

"You mean Sam?" Clara was half smiling at the Doctor and he frowned.

"That's what I said."

"You said Mammoth."

"Getting back to the point." John Watson interrupted, seemingly not as keen on the argument as the two of them. "The brothers and Amy are looking for you outside of the TARDIS."

"Why bother doing that? I never left." He straightened his bow tie out of habit while thinking. Something wasn't quite right with this gang. They were hiding something.

"Doctor, you were unconscious." Clara told him, a puzzled expression on her face.

"No I wasn't. I was right here." He argued defensively. What on earth was she going on about?

"You were knocked out by a demon named Crowley. We need you to wake up and return us to our bodies." Sherlock told him, and the Doctor frowned before touching his temple as a slight throb hit his brain. The memory began to resurface painfully. A snapping of fingers before a rush of black. Then he had found himself wandering around the TARDIS looking for something.

"Yes, yes, I remember now. But I can't wake up I don't understand-" The Doctor froze, realizing what he was looking for, what was missing from the whole scenario. "Why can't I remember? The first thing I remember is regenerating in the TARDIS. Where's the rest of my memory?" He looked disturbed.

"What do you mean regenerating?" Clara asked looking slightly confused.

"I'm unconscious?" He checked with Sherlock who nodded affirmatively. "Then it's simple. My memory has been segmented into eleven pieces. Each of them should take the form of my past regenerations. It's a rare thing with Time Lords and usually only happens due to mental trauma. You need to find my other regenerations and bring them to me."

"What's a regeneration?" Clara looked around at the other three.

"When a Time Lord is close to dying their bodies change so that they become in essence a different person entirely." Sherlock explained to her quickly before turning to the Doctor. "If the memories of your past lives come together you will wake up?"

"Like putting Humpty Dumpty together." The Doctor nodded, grinning at his understanding. "I'm sure Amy's boys will be able to find some of them but in the meantime-" He spun on his heel and bounced back towards the control room. After looks were exchanged, they followed him. He was on the level below them, rummaging through a trunk. He tossed bits of strange material including three blankets that looked to have been turned into ponchos, a copy of an Agatha Christe book and a glowing ball.

"Here." He shoved some metallic squares into Clara's arms. "These will bring you back to the control room no matter where you are." He picked one up and pressed a small button on the side of it. "See? You press the button and follow the beeping. The faster it is the closer you're getting to the control room. Now," He rushed past them, up to the console in the center of the level above them.

"Scanning for life signs." There was a whirring before a bout of circles appeared on the screen. "Four. Besides us, there are four regenerations in the TARDIS. So, I'll take these." he took a few of the squares from Clara, leaving them five. "And you send them all back here, eh? The faster we get this done, the faster we can get back to the TARDIS. The real TARDIS." He grinned at them, his face appearing excited but internally his mind was racing. He was watching Sherlock, nervous about leaving him alone with Clara.

"Go on then, off you pop. Oh and if you could stop by the kitchen and grab me a jammy dodger, that would be lovely." He swung himself onto a seat, still grinning. Clara shrugged before dropping the squares into John's arms.

"You can carry these for me." She told him, ponytail swinging as she turned towards the doorway leading out of the room. "Come on then boys. I want to see if there are any of the Doctor's regenerations by the swimming pool." John was only a step behind her, curiously asking questions.

"There's a swimming pool in here?"

"There's a lot of things if you know where to look..." Their voices began fading into the hall as Sherlock remained, looking down at the Doctor who's face still held the grin. His eyes, however, were calculating.

"Better hurry. Don't want them to get lost in the TARDIS." He warned him.

"John can manage without me." Sherlock told him, also observing the other man.

"Can he?"

"We haven't got all day!" Clara stuck her head back in, the words directed at Sherlock. He didn't glance at her as his body turned, still looking over the Doctor.

"He can."

* * *

Amy pulled a leaf off a tree as she passed beneath it, noting how large it was. The sunlight shown off it, seeing as it was daytime. So different than when she had last been here but Amy would recognize it anywhere. The trees done up with technology, the oxygen factory. Amy would never forget this place. She remembered the utter terror she had felt with that angel in her mind and that was not a thought that faded quickly.

They were walking in silence. Not out of need but just because there wasn't anything any of them felt like discussing. Nothing any of them should discuss without supervision. Dean had been on edge ever since they had picked her up and Amy could tell. She was wary of him, unsure what he would do next.

"Do you hear that?" Sam's head cocked, listening to the stillness around them. Amy shook her head, bright curls reflecting sunlight. "Over there." He pointed to a cluster of trees and as Amy directed her hearing in that direction she began to realize she did in fact hear something. Voices. Dean and Sam exchanged some look that Amy didn't quite understand, the pair of them moving to either side of her.

"Hello?" Amy poked her head around the tree.

"Who are you?" An older man stood there, white hair neatly done with a very sophisticated look about him.

"My name's Amy. I'm looking for the Doctor?" She moved out from behind the tree to see that beside him stood another girl, smaller with dark hair.

"I'm the Doctor. Now what do you want?" Amy glanced from Sam, who shrugged, back to the man.

"Sorry but my Doctor is a bit more, I don't know, dark haired?" Then a thought struck her. "Are you one of his regenerations?"

"Is that what this is about?" He wondered, cocking his head. "Because, you see, I remember dying but I don't know how I still look like this if I regenerated."

Dean's arms crossed. "So is he the Doc or isn't he?"

"When the Doctor is close to dying his body sort of changes so that he looks different. He calls it regeneration. He's had eleven bodies so far."

Dean threw his hands up, a little exasperated. "Great. So we're dealing with some sort of alien shifter. Does any one else not think this is messed up?"

"Eleven faces? I must get careless in my old age." The old man theorized.

"Which one are you?"

"The original." He nodded to her and Amy's eyes grew wide. The first Doctor. Incredible.

"Well, the Doctor, you, the other you, has to be in here somewhere. We need him to wake up and get us all out of here." Amy told him.

"What does she mean, Grandfather?" Amy glanced down sharply at the girl. Grandfather?

"Not now, Susan. We have to get back to the TARDIS. Where is it?"

"Just back there." Sam pointed, struggling to keep up with everything they were talking about.

"You, girl, listen. There are times when a Time Lord's consciousness breaks into the parts of his regenerations. You have to put them back together to wake us up. If I'm still as smart as I am now, then all of the regenerations should go back to the console room of the TARDIS. That's the smartest place for all of us to meet up. I assume the rest of me will be there. Inform anyone you find. Once you have found all eleven, we should all wake up."

"Sure, yeah." Amy agreed.

"Come along, Susan." The Doctor marched away with a curious granddaughter in tow. Amy blinked after them, unable to take her eyes off of the small girl.

"Didn't know the Doc was the type for kids." Dean observed.

"I never met them." Amy said quietly, lost in thought.

"Well, at least we know a little bit about what's going on." Sam tried to be cheerful. "I mean this crap about regeneration doesn't make much sense but at least we're getting somewhere."

Amy said nothing for a short time, her mind racing. Then she swung around to face the brothers, a mischievous grin on her face. "Alright boys. Let's go on a Time Lord hunt."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Notes: Sorry I'm a day late but I had dress rehearsal last night and was signing up for the ACT and everything got so messy. I'm working again on Sunday so that chapter may be late as well. But for now enjoy this chapter! This is one of my favorite bits I've ever written so I hope you enjoy and please review!**

* * *

A slight wind stirred the leaves on the trees just outside of the motel. No one was around, the quiet air undisturbed. Not even a car rolled through the street. The only living thing any one would have seen was a lone bird flying overhead, uncaring of the emptiness below it. It drifted lazily on the air current, its wings flapping only occasionally.

But it wasn't those wings that created the sound of ruffling feathers that broke the stillness. A man had appeared outside of one of the rooms. He turned the handle and though the door was supposed to be locked, it slid open for him effortlessly. He sauntered in, taking the room in with a few short glances. His hands ran over the papers on the desk, looking for something specific.

He came up with a small note, almost an afterthought though it had been circled and the letters written in bright red pen.

'Magnolia'.

It only took a short trip into town to discover the inn. A few simple questions and he was down in the basement, looking over the scene. There were traces of unfamiliar particles to him. He ran his hand through the air as though he could see them though in reality he could only sense their presence in a way humans could not. He followed this trail of particles around a stack of crates.

To his surprise, he found a bright blue box. He placed his hand on the handle and found it locked. He frowned, trying to undo the lock in his mind but it was complex, incredibly complex. There was technology here he had never seen before. This was no ordinary lock. He settled instead for simply flying inside, appearing beside a large glowing console.

The lights inside of the room flickered, almost in a welcome. His eyes narrowed at this. The machine hummed as he put his hand out and touched it. It vibrated underneath his borrowed skin, as though it were purring. He removed his hand, a little out of his depth. The lights dimmed a little, seemingly disappointed. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the feeling.

He turned to leave through one of the doors leading deeper into the machine but a whisper in the back of his mind stopped him.

_'Castiel.'_

The angel turned, looking back at the console. His bright blue eyes darted around the room, looking for who could have spoken to him. It was empty. Yet he still felt as though there was something watching his movements. He turned again, back towards the door.

_'No, Castiel.'_

Cas found himself turning to another of the doors in response to the voice. It said nothing more as he walked through it, leaving the strange room far behind. He followed the hallway, noting as he did so that the entire maze he found himself in was full to the brim with the strange particles. Yet there was a particularly concentrated stream along the path that he followed. It was dissipating but still able to be followed.

It led him through a octagonal door where he found a variety of beds jutting out from the walls. On many of them lay people he didn't recognize. There was a floppy haired man on the one directly in front of the door and to the right of where he stood lay a ginger woman. There was a cup just beneath her hand which was dangling over the edge of the bed. He picked this up and brought it to his nose. The smell tickled his memory. African dream root.

He stared into the face of the woman. Her entire body was saturated with the particles. They lay so thickly over her that he could almost see their glow coming from her skin. He reached a hand out, trying to feel the phantom stuffs. His hand cupped around her face, sliding right through the ghostly layer.

As his skin made contact with hers she gave a start, eyes opening. He blinked in surprise, concentration shattered. Her bright green eyes darted around the room, startled and unsure before flicking back up to his.

"Get off of me." She pushed him by his chest until he was forced to back up.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to wake you." He was honest about that. He had been so caught up with trying to figure out what was covering her that he hadn't thought. One touch from the angel had taken away the effects of the root, pulling her up from her comatose state. She sat up on the bed, one hand to her head.

"I don't think I was supposed to wake up yet." She groaned. "You really did a number on me, angel man." Cas blinked again, this time in confusion.

"Have we met before?" She gave him a look.

"Stop that, it's not funny." Her boots clicked on the floor as she lowered herself down. "How are the others?" For the first time, Cas took a look around the room. It took him less than a moment to find the person he had come here for.

"Dean." He moved towards the hunter, hand outstretched to wake him. A long fingered hand caught his arm, pulling him back.

"Can't let you do that." The woman told him seriously.

"I have some important information for him." Cas didn't know why he bothered to argue with her. What did she know of such matters?

"Listen, angel or no, this isn't something you can mess with. The boys have to fix the Doctor. If you pull them up, there's a good chance he'll just lay here for years." Cas turned from the bed with the hunter on it.

"How do you know I'm an angel?" He questioned, concerned as to how she could know such things about him. This entire place unnerved him. There was something off about it, something he didn't like. The whole thing screamed trouble at him and he was truly worried. Castiel had never seen anything like it and he was almost as old as time itself.

"You saved me from 1940. Don't you remember?" She looked as confused as he felt.

"I have done no such thing." He told her and her face scrunched up in thought.

"Amy Pond." She stuck her hand out, shaking his.

"Castiel." He watched as she pulled his hand away from his side and moved it up and down. He had never much understood the idea of hand shaking, nor seen the point behind it.

It took Amy quite a while to explain everything to the angel. What he had done, the case that had lead them all to Crescent Mills. She told him about their flight to Jirar which ultimately ended in the TARDIS landing back on earth to drop off Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson. She explained about the Doctor and his TARDIS and how they were trying to awake him from his coma.

Altogether it took nearly a half an hour. And she had only covered the very basics, not even getting into how she had been trapped in 1940 or how the TARDIS could also travel in time. He absorbed it all without question, taking her at her word. However, he still insisted on waking Dean in the end.

"He's in the Doctor's brain. You can't pull him out. He needs him to put the puzzle together." She protested, moving between him and the older Winchester.

"There are far larger concerns than the Doctor." Cas argued, trying to move past her. She slid into his way again and he frowned. She was being quite difficult.

"There are no larger concerns than the Doctor." She was adamant on this point.

"There could be thousands of lives at stake. Would you have that weight on your shoulders?" He snapped, eager to get out of the strange place.

"The Doctor will save them. We just have to wait a little while till he wakes up. A day, no more." Amy told him. Cas' mind raced, trying to think his way out. "The TARDIS is landed, yeah?" Cas nodded his head. "Then let's go down to the pub and have a pint. We haven't got more dream root. I say we try and work this out over chips."

Some gears clicked in the angel's brain. He nodded his approval and she took his hand, grinning. She pulled him from the room, leading him back through the console room which did nothing to greet him this time. Amy didn't even notice the looks he threw around the room as she pulled him from the TARDIS doors, eager to see what information she could squeeze out of a proper angel.

"Will others be able to get inside?" He wondered as she threw the door shut behind them.

"It's fine." She shrugged. Cas glanced back at the blue box as they walked away from it. Bigger on the inside. Fascinating. How does one even begin to go about that? Amy's Doctor man must be extremely powerful. Perhaps he struck some sort of deal with a crossroads demon. And it moved as well, she told him? What a strange concept.

"Dean says there's only one pub in this town but one's enough for the two of us. You drink much?" Amy questioned, throwing open a door.

"I have had my share of experience in that department." He told her truthfully.

"I suppose angels don't carry money." Amy sighed. "But don't think that's getting you out of paying me back." Cas blinked. Here was an interesting character. Where had the Winchesters picked her up? According to her, they had gotten her from 1940 but Cas had made no such trip. Since he had picked up the angel tablet he had been laying low. He wouldn't risk such a jump for no reason. So who had brought Amelia Pond back to her own time?


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Notes: SO, long day of work and my arm is about ready to fall off. But I was surprised to find that this was my last pre-written chapter! I only have half of a chapter written after this one! Guess I'll have to pick up the pace. Not that you have much to worry about since I have an outline of the rest of the story all written up. Anyways, enjoy the chapter and please review!**

* * *

Sherlock's knuckles rapped against a door, catching John's attention. His head spun around to find his dark friend tracing a finger around the edge of the oddly shaped door. The small girl, Clara, also stopped, looking back around towards the genius.

"What are you doing?" She bounced over to him, following his finger with her eyes. Bouncing. She always seemed to be bouncing. She was young, full of life. How had she found herself in the company of that Doctor man? He was clearly an an old soldier, albeit one with a young face. It was probably some alien thing. Aliens. John found himself wondering more and more whether or not he was going insane.

"This door is hardly used." Sherlock noted.

"That's cause it gets jammed easily. We only ever use the other entrance." She noted.

"What's in there?" John joined the two of them. Clara had a wide smile as she bounded past him. The two men exchanged looks and followed her around the curve in the hallway. They soon came to another door of roughly the same shape. This one slid open smoothly as Clara stepped up to it. John and Sherlock followed warily behind.

"Oh you're going to love this!" Beyond the small girl were shelves seeming to go upwards forever, holding thousands upon thousands of books. There were aisles and some books in higher prominence than others but each book as beautiful as the last. A library. Not just a library, but the greatest one either of them had ever seen.

"What do you think?" Clara asked John eagerly. He was too flabbergasted to respond properly so he continued to gape. Sherlock recovered himself more quickly, spotting movement a few aisles down. He was after it immediately, following his hearing. He skidded around a corner to find a man with graying hair looking through a volume.

"The Doctor, I presume?"

"What do you want?" He flipped a page, looking with a bored eye over the pages.

"Your regenerations have been fractured. We were told to give you this." He dug into his pocket to find one of the squares. The Doctor took it from him at once and seeming to understand, sighed dramatically. He pushed the consulting detective aside, leaving the library. Clara and John soon joined the detective, glancing over their shoulders at the departing regeneration.

"Guess he wasn't always so cheerful." John commented making Clara smile. Sherlock said nothing, turning around. Something had caught his eye before cornering the Doctor. He made his way past several more aisles of books to find one laying in the open on a stand. There were bizarre circles over the front of the book but in small English letters were some worsd that caught Sherlock's eye.

His hand curled around the edge of the book, trying to pull the cover upwards to see a glimpse of the first page. He frowned when it wouldn't open. He pulled harder, a force that normally would have broken the binding of the book. It didn't budge. He pulled as hard as he could, muscles straining. Clara came over and watched him with an amused eye. He didn't even look at her as he struggled.

"That book only opens for the Doctor." She told him. "Why? What's it to you?"

"Nothing." Sherlock spun around and stalked angrily from the book. He was not used to having information denied to him. He didn't like it at all. John didn't say a word at the sight of the storm cloud that was his face. John knew that sometimes the genius was best left alone and Sherlock was grateful for that.

After all, what the book had denied him knowledge to was something Sherlock had been curious about for a good long while. Something he couldn't find any information on in his internet research. It was the greatest mystery according to the sources he had found. And the book said on the cover that it contained the answer. A puzzle Sherlock couldn't solve on his own.

The Doctor's name.

* * *

"I don't like it either but what are we supposed to do about it?"

"I don't know, maybe wake up and find out what the hell happened?"

"Dean, you know that only the Doctor can wake us up. We just have to put him together and then we'll wake up, okay? It's the only way."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." Dean swept aside a tree branch irritably. Amy vanishing into thin air meant nothing good. He couldn't help but worry. One moment she had been joking with them and the next she had just vanished. Not even some shimmering lights indicating a teleport or some crap like that. She had just vanished.

"Maybe someone woke her up." Sam theorized, running over numerous scenarios in his mind.

"She and Clara said that no one could get into the TARDIS. It would have to be something they didn't know about getting in. That means nothing good. She could be getting attacked by an alien or something!" Dean was being dramatic, he knew it. But even his inexpiable sense of guilt wasn't smothering his worry. Nothing should be able to pull Amy up from the dream root. Nothing natural.

"Dean, you need to stop worrying. If aliens were on board we'd all be dead by now. I mean, we're all asleep. They would kill us on the spot."

"Thank you, Sammy. That's very reassuring." Sam rolled his eyes and punched his brother on the shoulder. "Sam, when you look at her, do you feel like there's something wrong?" Sam shrugged, thinking about it.

"No. Why, do you?" Dean thought carefully about his answer. He wasn't sure just how much of this to share with his brother. He trusted Sam but the whole thing seemed irrational.

"When I look at her, I just feel-"

"Oi! Keep it down would you!" Sam and Dean blinked in momentary surprise, looking around for the source of the interruption. They walked forward, coming to a small clearing in the trees. In the center of it sat a man surrounded by photographs. He kept picking them up, shuffling them, and putting them back down as though constantly dissatisfied with what he saw.

"Doctor?" Sam wondered hesitantly.

"Yes, what is it now?" He demanded, looking up. "Do I know you?"

"Uh, not yet." Sam said, watching as he stood. He pulled out some glasses from his pocket and after shoving them onto his face began to do a look over of the two boys.

"Blimey I travel with some odd company. But, wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey." He waved a hand airily.

"So you know about your conscious being split up then?" Sam wondered, not quite sure how to talk to the quirky brunet.

"Is that what it is then? Huh, thought it might be. I'm getting careless in my old age. What's your name then?"

"I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean." Sam jabbed a thumb at Dean who was glancing down at the photos and papers strewn across the grass.

"Nice to meet you, Sam-bo. I'm the Doctor. Tenth face." He made a circular motion around his face with one finger.

"So you're who came right before our Doctor?" Dean asked, joining the conversation.

"Oh so you're with me in my next face? Good then, not long to wait. Or at least I haven't screwed up and had to regenerate yet. Tell me, Sam and Dean, if you're my new companions then where am I? Hmm? If my consciousness is split apart shouldn't I be with you so that I can put myself back together again?"

"Uh, you said, or your first self said that we should send you and the other...yous... I guess, back to the TARDIS." This whole topic of conversation was hurting Sam's head.

"What are these, Doc?" Dean picked up a stack of the photographs. He began leafing through them.

"Some old memories. That was my friend, Donna. Donna Noble. She was great, brilliant. Never quite believed it though." The Doctor's face was sad as he stared down at the woman.

"You got a thing for red heads?" Dean chuckled, thinking of Amy.

"That brings up another question." The Doctor turned to Sam very seriously and Sam looked at his brother with sudden discomfort. "In my next regeneration, what color is my hair?" Sam didn't know whether to laugh at the question or to answer back as seriously as it had been asked.

"Brown?" He said hesitantly.

"Is it too much to ask to be a ginger?" The Doctor protested, throwing his hands up.

"What's this?" Dean showed the Doctor another photograph and again his eyes grew sad.

"That was a sort of code word, I suppose. My friend, Rose. She came up with it. She was brilliant." Dena looked between the photo of the graffiti and the red hair of Donna Noble.

"Bad wolf." He said under his breath, something about it tickling his memory. Red hair. Bad wolf. Red hair. Wolf. Red. Wolf. Red wolf. One of his hands flew to his head, a painful shock going through his brain. Red wolf. Red wolf. Red wolf. A sort of rushing sound filled his ears as he felt himself being jerked from sleep. But that didn't stop the flood of images filling his brain.

Dean Winchester remembered.


End file.
